


Jailbait

by katbear



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Angst, Boys in Chains, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-09
Updated: 2002-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:26:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 91,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katbear/pseuds/katbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission goes wrong, Obi-Wan ends up in prison and gets a new cellmate.  Serious issues ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One of Two

**Author's Note:**

> There is some very intense violence and non-con in this story.
> 
> Archive: MA, AO3  
> Category: angst, non-con, h/c, first time (sort of)  
> Rating: NC17  
> Pairing: O/other, Q/O  
> Feedback: Appreciated, especially constructive criticism. Grammar, plotline, characters, continuity or whatever – if you think something could be improved please let me know.
> 
> Thanks to the beta readers: for help with comments and encouragement, Thalia for the first draft, Tem-Ve and Gloriana for plowing through the monster final draft, and especially Emu for putting up with so many iterations of the story and letting me know honestly when things sucked (which is really only fair since it was her little bunny that grew up into this ravening beast). All mistakes are definitely my own since I can't resist tweaking.  
> Warnings: If you don't like male-male relationships you are in the wrong place. Language, a fair bit of Obi-abuse and noncon sex.  
> Spoilers: None, pre-TPM.  
> Disclaimer: The boys belong to George Lucas, I'm just playing with them. No profit is intended or made.  
> ~ ~ Character internal thoughts  
> * * emphasis

Obi-Wan Kenobi knelt in the square of midday sunlight, hands resting on his thighs. Eyes closed, he breathed slowly, mind gradually clearing. He finally sank into a light meditation, his first in many days, remaining motionless as the patch of light shifted position.

A snort of derisive laughter broke his concentration. “Wake up, prettyboy,” sneered the guard. “Time for lunch.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes in time to catch the chunk of bread and block of cheese that were tossed through the bars, metal collars around his neck jangling harshly as he leaned forward.

“Eat hearty, Jedi boy,” the guard continued. “I hear they’re bringing you a new mate today. Maybe this’ll be the one to keep your perverted little ass in line.” He laughed and headed down the corridor with a cart of food.

Sighing heavily, the padawan looked at the rough meal with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, but the rumble from his stomach reminded him that he had better eat while he had the rare opportunity to do so undisturbed. Obi-Wan had long since learned to ignore the gibes about Jedi and infant sacrifices, child sex, dark magical practices and other distorted lies, but it didn’t make life very pleasant when everyone considered him to be such a nasty piece of slime. He glanced over at the makeshift calendar on the wall and sighed again.

~ Thirty-two days I’ve been in here, thirty-six days since the mission fell apart, and forty-three since I last saw my Master. ~ He moved over to the small sink set into the wall and pressed the button to release water into the plastic cup. He allowed himself a small stab of self-pity. ~ I wonder if he even knows that I’m still alive. ~ He sat on the bunk to eat, his thoughts glum.

Junmek was an unsavory little Outer Rim planet whose inhabitants derived most of their income from smuggling, farming, mining, and odds and ends of legal trade. The natives were humanoid, tending toward middle height, fair skin and grayish eyes, although the northern mountains and plains were dominated by taller, fierce hunting clans. Except for the clans, most Junmekans had little use for the Republic or Jedi, and normally the Jedi would have had little use for a place like Junmek. Several clandestine visits, however, had confirmed that the Junmekans tended to produce an abnormally high proportion of Force sensitives; because of this, for over two centuries the Jedi had periodically sent covert missions to look for suitable young Temple candidates among the orphanages and the poor. Qui-Gon and his apprentice had been joined by Knights Dra’vr and Ghuthiin on just such a mission.

After arriving on Junmek, the four Jedi had hidden their ship in the highlands, then split into two teams for the search. Knight Ghuthiin and Padawan Kenobi most closely resembled the lowlanders so they headed south to the cities while Qui-Gon and the tall, gangly Knight Dra’vr went north to seek the roving clans. The mission had initially gone well, each team finding three youngsters. As senior Jedi, Qui-Gon had called both teams to return, but Knight Ghuthiin had felt a particularly strong Force call. The junior knight was normally rather fussy and pedantic, but his obvious sincerity in this case had persuaded Obi-Wan against his better judgement to agree to stay an extra day. They had found a baby with incredible midichlorian readings in a brothel and paid off the owner, but within an hour were running desperately from two squads of local peacekeepers. The knight took the infant while Obi-Wan guarded his rear. The next thing the young Jedi remembered was waking up in a cell with a tremendous headache, wearing a crude but effective Force dampening collar. There had been a short trial where the brothel owner had testified that the Jedi had stolen the baby, then the padawan had found himself shipped off to this distant prison.

One of the few saving graces of the prison guard force was that they seemed to have a definite distaste for physical contact with male prisoners, considering them too low a lifeform to touch and preferring to rely on pain-inflicting control collars and neuron whips. The guards did, however, seem to derive great entertainment value from the prisoners’ ‘interactions’. Obi-Wan remembered with disgust the initial strip and cavity search performed by a prisoner trustee; a guard watched with a leer as the trustee took several liberties with his manacled body stretched naked over the steel railing.

After inprocessing, Obi-Wan was given two sets of rough spun tunics, pants and smallclothes, a pair of soft shoes, and a small set of toiletries; a control collar was welded around his neck. The apprentice was then placed in an austere two-person end cell in the high security section, under constant surveillance from cameras and monitors. He was grateful for the barred window, which he could pull himself up to look out of, but not pleased with the cold breeze that the opening allowed to enter at night. The window did have a remotely controlled shutter, but as far as he could tell the guards only seemed to close it when it rained heavily. Since most of the high security prisoners were not on work details, his interaction with other inmates was limited to the daily communal meal, the every other day common exercise yard and the occasional forced showers where small groups of prisoners were stripped, chained together and taken to the cleaning room for haircuts and a hosing off.

The padawan’s biggest problem had been the series of cellmates forced upon him. The young man had stayed celibate for years, hoping to get his long-desired Master to become his first lover upon his approaching twenty-first birthday, so he had no intention of becoming a fuck toy for another prisoner. Even without his Force abilities, Obi-Wan had a wide repertoire of unarmed combat skills, and so far he had successfully fought off every attempt to take him. There had been a few close calls; a battle scarred veteran named Diwan and a tough little bald scrapper had given the apprentice quite a fight. The constant vigilance in cell and exercise yard was wearing heavily, however; after his last cellmate was taken away with a broken arm, the previous night had been his first uninterrupted sleep in almost two tendays. The padawan was tired and underweight, and every passing day in the dull gray of his Forceless existence took an emotional toll as the possibility of rescue seemed to diminish.

Finishing the last of the tough bread, Obi-Wan’s attention was caught by a commotion from somewhere down the long corridor. He moved to the front of the cell, which was an open lattice of steel bars, but a guard’s arrival quickly sent him to the back wall as far as possible from the door. It had only taken one shot of pain from the control collar to learn that lesson his first day. He watched warily as the door was unlocked and opened.

A gasp of despair escaped his lips involuntarily at the sight of the new prisoner’s deep blue eyes glaring fiercely at the four guards escorting him.

~ Master! ~ He felt his knees grow weak as he watched the guard by the door motion the prisoner into the cell. Obi-Wan quickly realized his error, though, and pressed himself against the rough wall to wait.

The tall prisoner growled and rattled his leg and arm chains. The head guard held up his control rod and pressed a button, sending the prisoner to his knees with a howl of pain. After the button was released, the four guards hauled the new inmate back to his feet, his head drooping. Holding the control rod in clear view, the head guard again waved the prisoner in. Still glaring, but now with a careful eye on the guard, the man shuffled inside, then stood quietly as the chains were removed and the door locked.

The head guard gestured at Obi-Wan. “Ben, Jedi baby thief.” He then waved at the stranger. “Maogg, White Panther clan, spy and murderer.” Addressing Maogg, the guard held up his control rod. “Ya understand what this does?”

“Yes.”

The guard held up his neuron whip. “Ya understand what this does?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t care what the two of ya do in your cell as long as ya don’t kill each other. Outside the cell, *anywhere* outside the cell, do what you’re told and don’t cause no trouble or ya get your sorry ass zapped. The more times ya cause trouble, the higher the setting and the harder ya get zapped. Got that?”

A brief hesitation, then another single grunted “Yes.”

“Good.” The guard leaned closer to the bars. “Hey, Ben, among the clans, if ya ain’t a first son, they only got two kinds of young adult males. You’re either an owner, or you’re owned. Mostly, they’re owned.” He smiled and jerked his head at the clansmen. “And them tattoos on his arm says he done killed four people already. At least try to put up a good show for the boys in the monitor room.” He waved at the camera as the guards laughed. Finally they headed back down the hall, loudly placing bets on how long the Jedi would last. Obi-Wan’s stomach churned acidly as he licked dry lips.

The new prisoner had backed against the wall across from the window and was slowly surveying the bare cell. There wasn’t much to see: a bunk bolted to each wall, each with a thin mattress, two sheets, a single blanket and support bars at the head and foot; a steel sink set into the wall and two plastic cups; a steel mirror; a steel toilet; a small shelf at the head of each bunk for clothes and personal items.

Obi-Wan used the time to get a closer look at his new cellmate and quickly realized why he had initially mistaken the stranger for his Master. The newcomer was the same size as Qui-Gon, which made him average for a clansman, with the same large hands, blue eyes and even a broken nose. The dark brown hair was tied back in a single tail but the beard was thicker and darker brown than Qui-Gon’s. There was a fearsome scar on the left cheek, a chipped upper front tooth and several dark blue and red tattoos on the right arm. Although he clutched a set of prison clothes in one hand, the guards had let him keep at least some of his native clothes: soft leather boots, leather breeches and a sleeveless tunic tightly woven with a recurring zigzag pattern. The whole outfit was in dark earth tones, and Obi-Wan caught a whiff of dirt, body odor and a faintly herbal overtone as the man moved closer to him.

The padawan dropped into a wary crouch when Maogg dropped his prison issue on his bunk and headed cautiously across the cell. For the moment, though, the clansman ignored his companion as he stepped up on Obi-Wan’s bunk to grasp the window bars and look out. Obi-Wan knew what the newcomer would see: a piece of the exercise yard a story below them, some storage buildings, an inner electrified wire fence, the outer stone wall, several guard towers, and miles and miles of desolate plains and scrub forests between here and the nearest foothills. While Maogg was checking out the sights, Obi-Wan took advantage of the opportunity to dash to the front of the cell where there was more room to maneuver.

Several minutes passed in silence while the clansman finished his survey of the outer world. Obi-Wan tried to stay loose by bouncing lightly on his toes, hands at his sides, eyes fixed on his opponent, but he could feel the churning increase in his stomach the longer he had to wait. Even without his Force senses, he knew this was going to be a difficult situation.

Maogg finally turned away from the window, dropped lightly to the floor and turned his attention to the Jedi. He gave the young man the same slow methodical survey he had used for the cell and the outside view. The casual stance exuded confidence, and there was a predatory gleam in the blue eyes. He folded his arms, sat down on the bunk and smiled.

~ What the -? ~ Obi-Wan blinked, backed against the bars and stared at the feral smile. ~ What in the six hells is he doing? Everybody else they put in here always attacked right away. ~ He considered his options and decided they were very limited. The apprentice now realized he had made a tactical error by allowing the clansman to hold the position in the center of the cell; he had the bunks, the water and the toilet under his control. It would be almost six hours until the guards rousted everyone out for the evening communal meal. The few things he could remember from the mission briefing were not encouraging or particularly useful; although the clans generally did not share the lowlander prejudice against Jedi, they were fierce and cunning warriors, great hunters, highly possessive and territorial, and had a religion based on sun and moon worship. The apprentice was even more nonplussed when Maogg simply closed his eyes and relaxed.

For over an hour the standoff continued. Obi-Wan slowly paced back and forth across the front of the cell, trying to stay loose. He was pretty certain that the clansman was tracking his exact position through sound and perhaps even smell, though Maogg’s eyes stayed closed. The apprentice could feel trickles of sweat starting to gather on his back and forehead and tried to pretend he was back at the Temple undergoing one of his master’s more fiendish exercises. His mouth felt dry and cottony, almost surely a psychological effect just from knowing he was potentially denied access to water. The excitement from the surge of adrenaline at the initial encounter wore off all too quickly, leaving him acutely aware of just how worn down he had become and making it more and more difficult to concentrate.

The explosion came suddenly, a blur of dark colors as Obi-Wan reached the end of his circuit and started to turn. The impact drove the smaller man into the wall but he managed to get in a punishing elbow to the gut and slide away. After the first flurry of blows the two men stood apart, appraising their respective situations. The clansman stood lightly balanced, a thoughtful respect evident for the unexpectedly swift reflexes of his young foe. Obi-Wan just dug in, grimly determined to hold out as long as possible. He could feel the sweat stinging his eyes, his nose full of the big man’s earthy smell.

The next thirty minutes saw the fight flow all around the cell. The clansman used his size, strength and considerable arsenal of fighting skills to patiently pursue and attack, but seemed unwilling to inflict severe or permanent damage. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, had no such inhibitions and was desperate. He used every bit of acrobatic skill and every dirty trick he knew to escape time and time again, but he just couldn’t land any debilitating blows against his elusive opponent. They watched and circled, swift blows drawing blood and grunts, a backhand to the apprentice’s face swelling his eye, a knee to clansman’s back snapping him into the bars, a booted foot sliding off a retreating knee, fists and fingernails gouging mercilessly. The end was almost inevitable, however, as the tiring and frustrated young Jedi finally missed a counterblow and went crashing to the floor unconscious.

Drifting back from darkness, Obi-Wan found himself lying naked on his bunk, the light breeze from the window causing a chill as it dried his sweat. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, his ears rang slightly and he felt sore from head to toe. His hands were tied securely to the bunk’s head support bar with his own prison pants. The clansman stood next to the bunk with his hands on his hips, smiling in amusement as Obi-Wan instinctively clamped his legs together. The apprentice’s gut spasmed in despair as he began to contemplate his likely fate.

Maogg’s expression changed to a professional detachment as he knelt beside the bunk. With a wet cloth he cleaned the blood and sweat from Obi-Wan’s face and chest. He then began a systematic inspection of his prize. Riffling through the short hair, he found the tender spots that made the young man wince and seemed to catalog the old and new bruises on face, shoulders and chest. He carefully inspected the swelling under the left eye, then held the Jedi’s nose until he was forced to open his mouth so the clansman could inspect his mouth and teeth. A puzzled expression on his face, Maogg ran his hands over the Force dampener several times before checking the fit of the control collar. He grinned as he stroked the long soft padawan braid, wrapping it experimentally around his fist and tugging a few times. The clansman frowned as he next ran a hand over Obi-Wan’s midsection, taking note of the tight skin over ribs and pulled in gut.

Obi-Wan did his best to lie in passive silence as the inspection continued, peripherally aware not only of the camera watching them but the two guards who had drifted into view. He kept his face turned away; at such close quarters Maogg’s body odor warred strongly with his herbal scent. The close-up view of the big hands revealed warrior calluses and dirty, broken fingernails. The apprentice gasped involuntarily when Maogg flicked his nipples, both hardening quickly into dark nubs. His resentment grew at being inspected like an animal at the market, and he worked to maintain his composure as the big man began a quick inspection of his joints, moving quickly from hands, wrists, elbows, shoulders, hips, then straight on to knees, ankles and feet.

Moving back up, Maogg grabbed the young man’s hip and turned him up on his side so he could squeeze each ass cheek. When he caressed the crack, Obi-Wan could take it no longer and tried to kick as hard as he could. His angle was awkward and the clansman easily intercepted the attempt from his position beside the bunk, twisting the young man onto his back, holding both ankles and forcing the struggling legs apart. His collars rang frantically as Obi-Wan continued to writhe and wriggle as hard as he could, spitting curses, but his efforts seemed to amuse rather than irritate his opponent.

Maogg let the struggle continue for a while, then reached up and grabbed the Jedi’s testicles. He sharply squeezed and twisted until Obi-Wan screamed from the pain. Sagging in relief when the pain finally stopped, Obi-Wan let the clansmen spread his legs without further objection. The apprentice looked down through streaming eyes as he gasped for breath and saw that there were now three guards outside the cell, all with pleased grins. His face burned in humiliation as he realized what kind of picture he must present, legs now splayed widely, his genitals clearly displayed. When he moved to close his legs, a quick squeeze on his sore ball sac immediately dissuaded him. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as he watched the tall clansman kneel on the end of the bunk. His skin felt clammy, bile slowly burning the back of his throat.

Ignoring the comments and laughter from their audience, Maogg proceeded with the same detachment with which he had conducted the rest of his inspection. He carefully checked the Jedi’s genitals for damage, then slowly caressed the flaccid cock as he gently fondled the heavy balls, calluses catching on the soft skin. Obi-Wan’s face turned an even brighter red as he felt his body begin to respond to the stimulation. His cock gradually filled and hardened until it was almost completely erect. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears, felt sweat trickling down his face. The hand that had been rolling his balls suddenly reached up and flicked and rolled his nipples again, causing his cock to jump and slap his belly. Maogg smiled, his blue eyes gleaming. The guards laughed and snickered.

~ Force, why does the bastard have to have Qui-Gon’s eyes? ~ Obi-Wan closed his own eyes and turned his face away, trying not to react but failing miserably.

~ Remember, it’s just your body, only your body, he can’t touch you inside, only your body, only your body. ~

The apprentice automatically reached for the Force for strength, to release his feelings, but ran into a gray wall of nothingness, his fear and revulsion feeding back on itself.

~ Please let him stop, please. ~

A few minutes later he grunted in surprise when a hard finger was suddenly jammed into his anus. He tasted fresh blood as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. There was a sharp pain as a ragged fingernail cut into the tender tissue, then the probing finger found the apprentice’s prostate gland and began rubbing.

~ Oh Force, somebody make him stop, please, somebody, anybody, please make him stop. ~

Obi-Wan moaned as his body responded to the stimulation. His hips thrust helplessly into the hand now fisting his cock as the blunt finger expertly stroked his prostate.

“No, please don’t. . . aaahhhhhh. . . .“

There was no more thought, only the urgent need pounding in his groin. Within a few short minutes his balls tightened and Obi-Wan came hard. A stream of hot semen splattered across his belly and chest. He watched dazedly as Maogg stood up, walked to the side of the bunk, then scooped up a finger of fresh semen, tasted it, slowly nodded. The clansman gave one last measured appraisal of the Jedi before stepping back.

Maogg pulled his tunic off over his head, then turned it inside out and placed it on his bunk. He carefully tore off two strips of cloth from the inner lining before putting it back on. Standing and facing the guards, he pointed to Obi-Wan and announced in a deep, firm voice, “Mine.”

He then knelt next to the bunk and threaded one of the cloth strips around the two collars and tied it off so a long strip hung down onto the Jedi’s chest. He took the other strip and wrapped it firmly around the base of Obi-Wan’s cock and balls, pushing them up and making a visible reminder of his claim. Propping up the Jedi’s knees as far apart as he could stretch them, he patted the sweaty forehead almost fondly. “Stay.” Obi-Wan was too exhausted to protest the command or the obscene display of his bound genitals.

Maogg stood up and faced the guards. He tapped Obi-Wan’s belly, announcing “Boy needs food.”

“Tough shit,” said the senior guard, a man Obi-Wan recognized as the afternoon shift leader. “Ya claimed him, he’s yer problem.”

After a moment of silence, Maogg nodded. “Mine,” he said again, then lay down on the other bunk and closed his eyes.

“Hey,” protested one of the guards. “Is that it? Ain’t he gonna fuck the little pervert?”

“Relax,” replied the senior guard. “I gotta cousin up north in the border guards. He says those clan bastards like to take their time properly breaking in a new pet. Somethin’ about ya gotta wait until the right time of the moon for their first real fuck.” He banged on the bar with his stick. “Hey, prettyboy, ya hear that? Your sorry ass is in for a real long ride after wildboy gets done fuckin with your head, but he’s gotta have the right time of month to fuck his bitch for the first time.” Not getting a rise from the unhappy Jedi, the guards laughed again and headed down the corridor, talking loudly about the ‘wildboy’s Jedi bitch’.

The next few hours were some of the worst of Obi-Wan’s life. As he physically recovered from the forced ejaculation, his initial reaction was denial. He had known, of course, that such things happened, had sat through the briefings back at the Temple, had heard it, even seen it here in the prison, but that was something that happened to other people. Obi-Wan was a good person, strong, a Jedi apprentice, pure in his faith; even after the repeated attempts in his cell he had not truly believed that this could happen to him. Slowly the physical evidence forced him to face reality: the strings of semen drying on his upper body, the tight cloth that held his organ prisoner, cold sweat that belied the hot blood still racing within him, the pain of his battered body. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the rough hands on his skin, touching, taking, so different from those other hands he had dreamed of. The painful intrusion and humiliation of that first time were bad enough, but he knew that there was more, and worse, yet to come. Obi-Wan was caught between the agony of now and fear of the future, his feelings spinning round and round helplessly, starting to grind away at his faith. The unyielding bonds and cold chill of nakedness reminded him constantly that he had been beaten, and little doubts began to grow, pricking his self confidence. Had he really done everything he could have, could he have fought a little harder, a little better, a little faster? His own body had betrayed him; he was a Jedi, surely he should have been able to control his physical reactions instead of coming like a back alley hooker, shouldn’t he? He could not feel the Force to seek answers, and the gray fog in his head only seemed to make the pain worse.

The emotional chaos churned bitterly, but finally Obi-Wan decided to see if he could at least do something about the physical pain of his degrading position. He waited until he was sure Maogg was asleep, then tried to ease his position and close his legs. Within seconds the jagged pain caused by the hand twisting his testicles had him screaming in agony again. After finally stopping, the hard blue eyes promised worse to come as the clansman rearranged the Jedi’s legs even wider before going back to his bunk. Clearly this was not a good time to further test the clansman’s reactions or temper, so Obi-Wan stayed there in humiliated misery, knees bent and legs spread wide, shoulders painfully stiffening, as every guard in the place seemed to make it a point to wander by the cell. They stopped, pointed, stared and made crude comments while Obi-Wan pretended to sleep, the passage of time finally helping to numb both emotional and physical pain. He was relieved when he finally heard the harsh bell that signaled ten minutes before the evening meal and hopefully a release from his bondage.

“Maogg,” he called quietly. “It’s almost time for food.” There was no response so he tried again. “Hey, Maogg, if we’re not standing at the door when the guards come we don’t get to eat.” Blue eyes looked over expectantly, as if waiting for the right response. Obi-Wan licked his swollen lips and swallowed his pride for the moment. “Please, Maogg, can I get up? I need to piss before the meal.”

The clansman smoothly stood up. With a stern glance, he barked, “Stay,” then slowly went over and took a long leak. The sound made Obi-Wan’s own bladder call even more urgently but he wasn’t going to ask again. Maogg finally turned around and untied Obi-Wan’s hands. “Up.” The Jedi heaved himself up, stiff from staying in one position too long, and staggered to the toilet. He had to wait a moment until the painful pins and needles in his arms subsided before he could continue. The clansman watched with an amused smile until Obi-Wan was finished and had turned around.

“You are mine,” said Maogg quietly as he stepped up belly to belly with the Jedi, grabbing a handful of hair at the back of Obi-Wan’s head to force his gaze upward. “You obey me. I take care of you. Understand?”

This was the longest speech yet from the tall northlander, and Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, so he just nodded.

“Obey me and you will leave this place alive with me. Defy me and you will stay here dead. Understand?”

Obi-Wan looked up into the deep blue eyes and saw only absolute calm and certainty. For a moment he felt that he was looking into his master’s eyes and shivered, feeling very vulnerable in his nakedness. He nodded again.

Evidently that wasn’t the right response. Maogg leaned down until he was nose to nose with the Jedi. “Do. You. Understand?” he growled.

“Yes, Maogg,” whispered Obi-Wan, frightened by the intensity of that blue fire gaze.

The clansman released the Jedi’s hair and backhanded him. Obi-Wan ended up sprawled across his bunk and looked up in bewilderment.

“You will call me Mazhten.”

Obi-Wan bounced to his feet in a momentary surge of rebellion as he remembered that the term was the clan equivalent for master. Maogg stared back implacably, almost daring him to make a move. Deciding that for now his priority had to be survival, Obi-Wan again swallowed his pride and anger. “Yes, Mazhten,” he almost whispered through clenched teeth.

“Good boy.” Maogg pointed at the sink. “Wash. Dress. We get food.”

“Yes, Mazhten.” He used the small cloth to wash off the worst of the dried sweat and semen, then quickly dressed and joined the waiting clansman by the cell door.

Maogg reached over and pulled out the strip of cloth tied to Obi-Wan’s collars so that it was clearly visible, patted the Jedi’s shoulder affectionately, and turned back to the door to wait.

 

************* *************

 

The evening meal was the only decent one of the day and most prisoners had learned to be on reasonably good behavior since the alternative was to stay locked in their cells on bread and water. At the second ringing of the bell, all of the doors on the corridor opened at once and all the prisoners quickly marched forward until they were facing the wall. At a barked command, everyone turned left and began slowly shuffling forward until there was an orderly queue at the double doors at the end of the corridor. Maogg and Obi-Wan were at the very end of the line. Inside the feeding facility the metal tables and benches were bolted down, so everyone moved forward until they were standing in front of a tray of food previously placed there by trustees. At another barked command from a guard on the overhead walkway, everyone sat down and began eating as much as they could stuff down in the ten minutes allowed before everyone had to stand up again.

Glancing at his tray as they waited for the command to sit, Obi-Wan saw that tonight’s offering included hot soup, soft bread with some sort of spread, a small piece of what might be meat and a small piece of fruit. Within thirty seconds of sitting down, however, Obi-Wan was amazed to see that his tray suddenly held two pieces of bread, four pieces of meat and two fruits. Looking up, he saw Maogg snag a bowl of soup and another fruit from another prisoner. Most of the nearby prisoners looked stunned at how swiftly selected portions of their food had disappeared. The last surprised donor objected, however, and within seconds was screaming in pain, nursing a broken wrist. At the first scream their table was surrounded by guards, holding neuron whips, fingers poised on the triggers.

The shift leader stalked up, angry eyes looking for an excuse to let the whips loose. “Alright, what the fuck’s goin’ on here?”

Three prisoners pointed immediately at Maogg.

“Causin’ trouble already, wildboy? Whatsa matter, ya didn’t understand the rules?”

Maogg held both hands flat on the table and looked straight out, careful not to appear to challenge the shift leader’s authority. “Boy is mine. He needs food. I get him food,” he said quietly.

For a moment the shift leader looked puzzled, but when he looked at Obi-Wan’s flaming cheeks and the strip of cloth hanging down from his collar, he broke out in laughter. “Well, I’ll be fucked. I guess ya was serious about takin’ care of your little Jedi bitch.” He laughed again, shaking his head. “Alright, wildboy, I’ll tell ya what. Since the rest of these sorry assholes obviously ain’t fast enough or man enough to take care of their own food, ya can take what you’re fast enough to grab and mean enough to hang on to. I catch ya overdoin’ it or takin’ someone’s entire meal, it’s a week on bread and water for both of ya. Fair enough, wildboy?”

“Fair,” nodded Maogg.

“Any of the rest of ya sorry asswipes got any problems?” The shift leader glared around the room but was met only by sullen silence. “Alright then, ya got seven minutes left to eat.”

Everyone went back to wolfing down their food. Obi-Wan sat there, feeling like everyone in the room was either staring at him or talking about him, until Maogg grabbed his braid and yanked.

“Eat!” glared his new keeper.

Obi-Wan started to reply but thought better of it and instead began stuffing food in his mouth as fast as he could. He was pretty certain he would dearly regret not finishing everything Maogg had provided for him.

Back in the cell Obi-Wan stood uncertainly by the door and watched as Maogg folded his prison issue clothing and put it neatly on his shelf. Pawing through the small toiletry kit, the clansman chose only the toothbrush and hair comb to put out, leaving everything else in its container. He then seated himself cross-legged on his bunk, back against the wall, and looked at Obi-Wan. “Here,” he grunted, pointing to a position halfway between the two bunks.

Obi-Wan quickly moved to the designated spot and stood quietly.

“Tell me what you do here.”

For the next several minutes the apprentice described the schedule: daily meals, exercise yard every other day, uniforms and sheets exchanged occasionally, showers also occasionally. When he had finished, Maogg sat for a while and seemed to think. Finally he gestured to Obi-Wan to come closer.

“Your duty is to serve,” said Maogg flatly.

“Yes, Mazhten,” replied Obi-Wan, remembering his lessons from Temple that that was usually a safe answer if you didn’t know what else to say.

“In here, you will clean and perform whatever duties the rules of this place require.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

“You will leave my marks on until I remove or change them,” said Maogg, pointing to Obi-Wan’s neck and crotch.

“Yes, Mazhten.” The apprentice was glad the strip around his sore balls had not been tightened any further.

“It is the duty of all who serve the gods to become strong. You are weak, boy. I will fix that.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “I don’t understand, Mazhten.”

“It is our duty to be strong to better serve the gods,” explained Maogg patiently. “You will eat the food I get for you. In the yard, we will exercise and we will run. When we can not go to the yard, we will exercise in here. I will show you. Each day I will check your progress.”

“Yes, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan’s glance turned uncertainly to Maogg’s crotch as he wondered what other ‘service’ he would be required to perform.

Maogg watched his eyes, giving a small laugh. He rubbed his crotch lightly, “All service comes in the rightness of time, boy, as the gods require. You will come to my bed when you are ready to offer the proper service in return for my care.”

“You mean I get to sleep in my own bunk?” asked the Jedi skeptically.

“Until you ask to come to mine,” replied the clansman with an enigmatic smile. That seemed to end the conversation since he then closed his eyes and ignored Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan retreated to his own bunk to mull over the events of the day. He kept a surreptitious eye on Maogg, not really believing that the clansman didn’t intend to fuck him raw that night.

Maogg was clearly a strong, experienced and highly skilled fighter; he had subdued an almost senior padawan while obviously trying to avoid damaging him. Obi-Wan wondered briefly how he had been captured, but let that thought go when he realized from his own past experience that almost anyone could be taken under the right, or unlucky, circumstances. Based on their more private exchanges, Maogg seemed to be reasonably intelligent and thoughtful, but in the presence of the guards was content to play the role of the dumb savage. If he was considered a dumb savage, however, the guards had certainly seemed to have an extra degree of fear or respect for him; there had never been less than four guards present when Maogg was outside the cell, and he had been allowed to retain his native clothes. From what he had seen so far, Obi-Wan held little hope that he might be able to sneak up on the clansman to knock him out and was certain he would be severely punished in some fashion for any unsuccessful attempts. The most puzzling aspect was Maogg’s apparently absolute conviction that he was going to escape; since Obi-Wan had little choice in the matter, he decided to try to play along as best he could.

The bell for ten minutes to lights out rang out, interrupting the apprentice’s thoughts. He waited for Maogg to relieve himself and brush his teeth before cautiously using the facilities himself. After he finished cleaning his teeth and face, he turned around in time to see Maogg appropriate the blanket from Obi-Wan’s bunk.

“Hey, what – ’’ The protest died on his lips as he saw the expression on Maogg’s face.

“You have a problem, boy?”

“No, Mazhten.”

Without another word the clansman spread the second blanket on his bunk, removed his boots and went to bed.

As the lights went out, Obi-Wan went to bed in his clothes also, hoping that his two sheets folded over would provide some small measure of warmth during the night. He was starting to get a really nasty feeling about why he might want or need to sleep in that other bunk, but hoped desperately he would be proven wrong.

 

********* ***********

 

Sleep did not come easily to Obi-Wan. He was sore and stiff from the day’s ordeals, there was a cool night breeze that got steadily cooler, and his anxiety about his presumed upcoming rape was growing. The nightly sounds of pleasure and pain that floated in the corridor from the other cells only fueled his imaginings of what was to come. He had finally dozed off a bit when he felt rough hands toss him from the bed to the floor.

~ Oh Force, this is it, he’s going to do it, ~ he screamed inside as a big hand at the scruff of his neck forced him to his hands and knees on the cold floor. He tried to stay quiet, not wanting to show his fear and revulsion, but suddenly realized that he was now crouching on the floor alone. Blinking in the pale moonlight, he looked up to see Maogg standing on the bunk by the window. Obi-Wan started to get up.

“Stay,” grunted the clansman. “You will show respect for the Mother.”

Obi-Wan had a vague memory from the long ago mission briefing about a Mother goddess, but the tone of voice left no doubt that there would be dire consequences if he did not stay down on the floor. He settled back into what he hoped was a respectful looking crouch, shivering a bit in the chill air.

Maogg grasped the bars tightly, turned his face up to the moon, and began a lilting chant. The power and clarity in the voice were astounding; listening in awe, Obi-Wan could easily imagine the piercing tones carrying across the empty miles outside the prison walls, singing a devotion and respect that would not be contained.

Pounding footsteps slid to a halt outside the cell. Obi-Wan tried to watch the guards out of the side of his eye.

“Shit, it’s the fuckin’ wildboy.”

“What the fuck is the crazy bastard doing?”

“I dunno. I ain’t never seen no shit like that. Look at him, will ya, it’s like he don’t even know where he’s at.”

“This is crazy. Zap the fucker, shut him up.”

Measured tread of authority, a calm new voice.

“I wouldn’t do that. They get crazy mean if ya try to stop them from singing to the Mother Moon.”

“Aw, c’mon, Zuq. Is he gonna do this shit every night?”

The older guard nodded. “They sing every night when the moon is highest, and pray every day to Father Sun when he is brightest.”

“I still say this is stupid. Let’s zap him.”

“Not me.” The first voice lowered. “I’ve heard they can do stuff.”

“What the fuck ya whining about?” in a scornful tone.

“They do stuff. Ya know, like make ya go sterile or get crotch rot, or worse.”

“I don’t believe this shit. What about it, Zuq?”

“It’s just a little noise and he’s not hurting anyone far as I can tell. Zap him if ya want, but don’t say nobody warned ya later.”

There was silence in the corridor as the pure tones continued to penetrate the night air.

“Aw, fuck it. C’mon, we got rounds to make.” Two sets of footsteps faded out.

Obi-Wan watched as the older guard stayed for a few moments more. The man finally shook his head, then took a medallion from under his tunic and kissed it before turning to leave. The padawan waited patiently, considering these odd new bits of information about his strange cellmate.

A few minutes later Maogg finished and returned to his own bunk without a glance at the Jedi on the floor. Obi-Wan waited to make sure it was safe, then crawled back into his own bunk to try to get what sleep he could.

 

*************** ******************

 

Obi-Wan woke to find himself the subject of contemplation by a pair of serene blue eyes. The clansman was sitting cross-legged on his bunk. The Jedi looked resentfully at the carelessly thrown back blankets as he tried to rub some life into his cold, stiff limbs.

A clang at the bars drew both men’s attention. It was a guard with the morning bread and cheese. He was normally a gruff, taciturn fellow so Obi-Wan was surprised when he stopped to watch the clansman.

“Up,” commanded Maogg, gesturing toward the cell door.

The apprentice obediently went over to fetch breakfast, placing the food on their respective bunks before heading toward the toilet.

“No.” Maogg pointed to the spot between the bunks, so Obi-Wan moved back to what seemed to be Maogg’s favored position for handing out guidance and wisdom.

“Strip.”

Lips pursed, eyes stormy, the padawan complied, wondering what was going to happen next.

“White Panther, eh,” came a rusty voice from outside the cell.

Maogg looked up and nodded at the guard, a question in his eyes.

“Thought so. Used to work up north till I got the joint disease.”

“Uhm,” grunted the clansman.

“Much rather fight your boys than the scum down south. Always fought honorable, your bunch did.”

Maogg nodded in acknowledgement.

“Got yourself a good boy, there, even if he is one of them fuckin’ Jedi.”

An eyebrow raised quizzically as the head tilted.

“Oh, yeah. Put down everyone they threw at him since he got here over a month ago.”

Blue eyes shifted back to watch Obi-Wan as if digesting this new information.

“He’ll take a bit of breaking in, but I reckon ya can handle him if anyone can.” The guard gestured at Obi-Wan’s crotch. “I see ya already milked him.”

While Maogg nodded at the guard, Obi-Wan blushed as he guessed at the meaning of the cloth strip bound around his genitals. The humiliation from being forced to ejaculate and then put on display still burned.

“Well, I gotta be goin’, I guess.” The guard looked around the cell, smiling as he noted where the blankets had ended up. “Hey, prettyboy.”

Obi-Wan looked up.

“There’s a freezin’ spell comin’ in, prettyboy. Just thought ya’d like to know.” The guard laughed as if he had made a tremendous witticism and pushed his cart down the corridor, still chuckling to himself.

Maogg didn’t give Obi-Wan time to contemplate the implications of that last statement. He rose and did a quick inspection of the young Jedi’s body, checking his injuries, flexing his joints, checking muscle tone and thumping his ribs. After allowing Obi-Wan to relieve himself, they went through a series of stretching exercises before they ate the meager breakfast. After the meal, Maogg retired to a front corner of the cell to sit, eyes closed, as the padawan made the beds with the regulation one blanket per bed and tidied up the cell.

 

*********** ************

 

“Front and center, asswipes,” called the guard as he went down the row of cells. Consulting a list, he called out various prisoners. “Move it, exercise time. Haul yer lazy asses.”

The sound of shuffling feet was the only noise as the closely guarded group of prisoners moved down the ramp, through the double gates and out into the large exercise yard. High security inmates were allowed out in randomly chosen groups of twenty to thirty every other day for two hours if the weather was reasonable. It was a privilege valued almost as much as the evening meal.

As soon as the guards retreated to the overhead walkways, the group gathered around the newcomer. Maogg patiently answered questions for a few minutes before starting to walk away, Obi-Wan trailing behind him.

“Hey, pervert, finally got your ass kicked, eh?” said a short, sallow prisoner who had been one of Obi-Wan’s first victims. He reached out to grab the Jedi’s butt.

“Mine,” said Maogg quietly as the little man suddenly dangled in the air, a big fist around his neck. “Don’t touch.”

“Agghh, sure, sure, whatever ya say, just lemme down.” He was dropped like a sack of rocks.

The clansman looked around casually as Obi-Wan stood quietly with his head down. Finally, someone cleared his throat. “Nice bitch ya got.”

“Yes. We exercise now. Boy will need to be strong to serve me.”

There was a general snicker and the group parted to allow the pair to leave.

Maogg took his prize to the far end of the yard and went through some simple stretching exercises before starting off on a slow circuit of the yard to warm up. After the first few minutes he picked up the pace and they spent the next hour and a half running around and around the yard.

The late morning breeze was brisk and at first Obi-Wan felt good as he warmed up and began to enjoy the exercise, working off the stiffness left from his injuries. It was the first time in quite a while that he had actually been able to get in a good physical workout instead of spending the time drifting around the edge of the yard either watching his back or fending someone off. Fortunately he had not usually been the center of attention as a lot of the focus at most sessions went either to turf struggles or to betting when owners would set bitches against each other. Bitch fights were among the most desperate the apprentice had ever seen as the consequences for the losers were severe: not only did the winning bitch get to fuck the loser, but the loser’s owner usually punished him again when they got back to their cell if he was a forced instead of consensual bitch. The first few exercise sessions had been very enlightening for the young Jedi, both as to the viciousness of the inmate relations and the amount and types of contraband material available from the evidently bribable prisoner trustees and guards. Almost as fascinating had been the insights on the prisoner hierarchy: numerous small groups led by the strongest prisoners, shifting group memberships as guards transferred prisoners between the three high security floors, a few individuals and several pairs who were unattractive enough, inoffensive enough or had enough money from family or friends to drift harmlessly along the fringes of the prison society.

After the first half hour, enjoyment turned to work. Maogg kept up a good pace around the boring circle and Obi-Wan began to realize just how much of an edge he had lost off his conditioning during his time in the prison. The other prisoners would shout lewd comments each time he passed to encourage him. By the time they slowed down to a walk to cool down the padawan was dripping and panting while it seemed that the clansman was barely sweating.

The guards were beginning to gather as the exercise period neared its end. Maogg and Obi-Wan were doing a few last stretches when Maogg suddenly stopped.

“Down,” he ordered. When Obi-Wan did not immediately respond he swept the apprentice’s feet out from under him; finally the young man figured out what was wanted and crouched on his hands and knees. Maogg went to one knee, his face up to the sun now high overhead, and began a low, sing song chant. It was deeper and rougher than the homage to the moon: a song of strength, a warrior’s song. Obi-Wan noticed that it seemed to reverberate around them rather than soar across the plain; he also saw that everyone else had backed away to the other end of the yard, some muttering to themselves. When he finished, Maogg gathered his possession and strolled over to join the line of prisoners that had formed, supremely unconcerned about anyone else’s reaction to his activities.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Obi-Wan was allowed to wash up at the small sink before eating the bread and cheese that waited for them in their cell. Maogg began teaching the apprentice some of the exercises they would be doing on the days they could not go to the yard. The evening meal was relatively uneventful; Obi-Wan ended up with three extra tuberous vegetables and an extra piece of something crunchy dripping in greasy gravy.

Obi-Wan had just finished brushing his teeth when the ten minute bell rang.

“Strip,” came the brusque command from the bunk behind him. His sphincter tightened but he quickly obeyed, then stood between the two bunks.

Maogg rose and circled around the apprentice, eyeing him critically. He checked the swelling under Obi-Wan’s eye, which had by now turned a rather spectacular shade of purple, and made sure the strip of cloth was still firmly in place around his genitals. Obi-Wan bit his lip and kept silent during the inspection, even when the broken fingernails caught on the sensitive skin of his scrotum.

“Your duty is to serve,” said Maogg flatly as he stopped in front of the young man.

“Yes, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan kept his eyes directed downward.

“You ran poorly today.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

“Next time you will do better.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

Maogg leaned down until he was face to face and said very softly, “Serve me and I will take care of you.”

Obi-Wan licked dry lips, his breathing tight as the man’s odor filled his nose. “Yes, Mazhten.”

The clansman moved around behind the Jedi. Obi-Wan heard a quick rustle, then the command, “Bed.”

“Yes, Mazhten.” Turning around to his bunk, he saw that tonight the blanket and both sheets were gone. Grim faced, he moved to the head of his bunk and reached for his pants.

“Oww,” yelped Obi-Wan as two stinging slaps reddened his butt.

“Did I say you could put clothes on?”

Obi-Wan looked angrily at the clansman, fists clenched at his side, breathing heavily through his nose as he fought to control his temper. After a long moment, he finally spat out through gritted teeth, “No, Mazhten.”

“Bed.” After the curt command, Maogg ignored the Jedi, took off his boots and got in bed.

Curling up at one end of his bunk, Obi-Wan tried to get some sleep. The night breeze was even colder than the previous evening, and he shivered all night. A few hours later he was again dumped on the floor, and crouched quietly while the clansman finished his devotions to the moon. Morning found him tired, stiff, very cold but still unfucked. Glancing up through bloodshot eyes at the serene blue gaze watching him from under two blankets the next morning, he wondered just what the bloody bastard wanted from him.

 

************ *************

 

The day passed relatively quietly. Maogg taught the young man a series of exercises they could perform in the limited space. Obi-Wan pretended he was simply learning new katas back at the Temple, but was surprised at how tired he felt by the time they ran through a few hours of almost nonstop variations and combinations of stretches, pushups, pull-ups, running in place, and what seemed to be unarmed combat moves. The apprentice had worked up a good sweat by the time they stopped for the clansman’s devotions to the Sun Father. From his place on the floor, Obi-Wan watched almost enviously as Maogg knelt by the cell door, graceful and seemingly unaffected by the hard exercise. During the afternoon the padawan attempted to meditate but could not find his center amidst his swirling emotions. At the communal meal the two cellmates were pushed further up in line by the guards so they ended up with different prisoners at their table; Obi-Wan overheard the guards making bets on Maogg’s ‘hunting’ skills. One of their new meal mates did object to the clansman’s appropriations, but ended up with two broken fingers for his troubles. Obi-Wan was barely able to finish all the extra food before they had to leave.

The evening was becoming a particularly anxious time for the young Jedi. He hauled himself up to the window, gazing out into the clear, cold air, and thought about home.

~ Qui-Gon, I know you are out there somewhere. I can’t feel the Force, but I know you are there, and I hope you are looking for me. I’m afraid, Master, afraid of this place, afraid of this man who looks so much like you, afraid of what is going to happen to me and the things I may be forced to do. I just want you to know I love you, Qui-Gon, and I waited all those years to ask you to be my lover, but I’m running out of time and choices, and I just hope you will still want me after whatever they do to me here. ~ Obi-Wan squeezed the bars hard, knuckles white. ~ Please, Master, if you are searching for me, please look a little faster. I don’t know how long I can stand it here. ~ He rested his head against the cold steel, fighting back the sting of tears. The air was already colder than the previous night and he was worried about what was to come, worried and lonely and fearful.

After the harsh clang of the ten minute bell, Obi-Wan stood naked between the bunks as Maogg began his nightly inspection. The young Jedi tried to remain passive, giving no outward indication of his feelings as the big hands touched his body, ignoring the occasional scratch from the broken fingernails.

Apparently satisfied with the results of his examination, Maogg paused in front of the young man. He leaned over until the two were face to face. “Your duty is to serve,” said Maogg very quietly.

“Yes, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan kept his eyes directed downward, his heart racing from the older man’s nearness, Maogg’s scent and sound filling his senses.

“Serve me and I will take care of you.” A silent, intense whisper.

Obi-Wan looked up, licking dry lips. He looked into the deep blue eyes, feeling his gut churn. Unable to sustain the contact, he swallowed and dropped his eyes. “Yes, Mazhten,” he whispered.

Maogg stepped away, moved around behind the young man to strip the other bunk. Tossing the blanket and sheets onto his own bunk, the clansman stood by the sink as he gave his curt command, “Bed.”

Turning around warily, Obi-Wan saw Maogg pointing to a spot almost directly under the open window. Obi-Wan crawled onto the bunk and sat at the indicated spot, hugging his knees tightly. Maogg turned back to the sink, taking one of the spare sheets and thoroughly soaking it. He then took the dripping sheet and wrung it out over the surprised Jedi, repeating the process until Obi-Wan and the mattress were drenched. Leaving the wet sheet in the sink, Maogg then went to bed.

Obi-Wan had never tolerated the cold particularly well, and the previous two nights had been miserable. Tonight, however, he knew he might well have reached the limit of how far his dogged stubbornness and fear could sustain him. The temperature was dropping rapidly; within a half hour he was shivering violently. Taking a chance, he silently eased off the bed and went to the front of the cell where he could stand in the distinctly warmer air coming from the corridor. Within a few moments he was writhing in silent agony, his back pressed against the bars. One large hand was pressed over his mouth to keep him quiet while the other squeezed his testicles. Finally the hold was released, Obi-Wan was carried back to the bed and again doused with water. This time Maogg used the wet sheet to tie the Jedi’s hands behind his back.

The next few hours went beyond miserable to torturous. Occasionally guards would wander by on their rounds and look in, but they never intervened. The temperature continued to drop and Obi-Wan could see his breath in the cold air. He was shivering continuously, teeth chattering, nose dripping. Without his Force sense he could not regulate his temperature internally, had not, in fact, even been able to meditate very well for several tendays. He was rapidly coming to understand that his situation was now a question of survival versus submission. Starting to drift in and out of blackness, he was painfully jerked back to wakefulness when he was grabbed by his bound hands and dumped to the icy floor. He knelt, hands still behind his back, shaking uncontrollably, while Maogg sang to his god, his devotion ringing across the empty miles in the freezing night air.

When the clansman had finished, he dropped lightly off the bed and went to the sink. He turned around with a full cup of water and stood watching the shivering padawan. He glanced briefly at the guards who had gathered outside the cell, then completely ignored them.

There was a long moment of silence as the apprentice looked up into the still blue eyes. He knew then, without any doubt, that his enigmatic new master was fully in control and it truly was his survival that was at stake. Obi-Wan decided there was no value to anyone if he died in this awful place; better to take a chance on life and getting back to his true master as damaged goods than never get back at all. Also choosing to ignore the voyeuristic guards, he buried his pride and anger, dropped his eyes and shuffled forward on his knees. Bowing his head to the floor in front of Maogg, he managed to croak out, “mmmazz’tttn.”

“What do you want?”

“Ttto ssserve you, mmmazttn.”

“You understand that once started, you cannot go back.”

One last spasm wrenched his gut as the apprentice shivered and rocked. He swallowed hard before managing to reply, “Yyyes, mmmaztn.”

Maogg moved to his bunk, unlaced the front of his pants and drew out a semi-erect penis. He sat on the edge of the bunk. “You may serve me now.”

Obi-Wan shuffled on his knees until he was between Maogg’s legs. He eyed the large penis uncertainly, trying to calm his churning stomach. He leaned forward to nuzzle the warm organ, but he was still shivering uncontrollably and his teeth chattered so much he couldn’t get his mouth around it.

Abruptly, Maogg stood up, shoving his penis back inside his pants. He untied Obi-Wan’s hands, then for the next several minutes he used the remaining extra sheet to thoroughly dry the young man and rub warmth back into his shaking limbs. When the Jedi was no longer shivering, Maogg again took his penis out and sat on the edge of his bunk.

Moving back into position between the clansman’s legs, Obi-Wan swallowed hard as he tentatively reached out.

~ Force, even soft the damned thing is huge, ~ he thought shakily, his stomach still fluttering. Putting his head down, ~ When was the last time he took a shower? ~ was his next passing thought as he got a huge whiff of pungent body odor.

Closing his eyes and doing his best to send his mind somewhere else, Obi-Wan set to work. He knew the theory of fellatio, but had no practical experience to fall back on. Working his tongue down the long length toward the dark curly hair, Obi-Wan almost gagged on the odors of old sweat and urine. He used his hands to fondle the large balls and stroke the penis as it hardened, licking and sucking, trying to ignore the sour taste. Licking up and down the entire length of the organ and around the soft sac, Obi-Wan had to pause to spit out the wiry pubic hairs he accidentally inhaled. He attempted to take the full cock into his mouth and only partially succeeded. Trying to compensate with his hands, he stroked faster as the clansman began to respond by thrusting his hips. Maogg moved swiftly to completion, holding Obi-Wan’s head to force his cock deeper into his mouth. The young man was desperately trying to breathe as the enormous cock filled his mouth and the jet of hot semen caught him by surprise. The large hand on the back of his head prevented him from pulling back; he swallowed some of the liquid but much of it dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin. Maogg pulled back with a contented sigh and leaned back on his elbows.

A few seconds later Obi-Wan crawled desperately to the toilet and started heaving. Maogg was immediately at his side, supporting him and stroking his back. When the spasms finally stopped, Obi-Wan gratefully took the cup of water offered by Maogg and rinsed his mouth out several times. The rough friction dried and warmed him as the clansman wiped him down again with the dry sheet, then helped him into bed. Obi-Wan felt the still-clothed clansman spooning behind him, Maogg rubbing his belly soothingly as the combined heat from both bodies soon made them comfortable.

Obi-Wan was silent for several moments, accepting the shared warmth as his stomach settled down. He finally ventured a meek, “I’m sorry, Mazhten.”

“Service can be difficult at the beginning.” Maogg shrugged. “You will learn.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

The young man lay quietly, eyes closed, arms hugged tightly to himself, trying to make himself as small as possible in the limited space. Try as he might, he could not help replaying the recent events in his mind, resentful for yet another dream the clansman had stolen from him. The sour salt taste of Maogg’s semen lingered in his mouth as the sharp odor still filled his nose. He was very aware of the large body behind him and he could not help but draw a bitter comparison of the large hand massaging his midsection to the hand that he had hoped to have there.

Obi-Wan had finally started to drift off to sleep when he felt the hand that had been rubbing his belly slide to his hip and then to his ass. He stiffened in panic and turned over to face Maogg, threw all remaining pride and dignity out the window and decided to beg.

“Please, Mazhten, please don’t do that to me. I will do anything else you want, I swear it, just please, please don’t do it,” he pleaded.

“That is not for you to say.”

“Please, Mazhten, I’ve never had sex before. Please,” he whimpered desperately as a tear finally escaped.

“You have never taken or been taken?” asked Maogg wonderingly. At the answering nod, he asked, “Are you a first born?”

“No, Mazhten. Where I come from everyone is free to give or withhold their body as they choose, not just first born. I. . . I was saving myself for someone I care for very much, I wanted him to be my first lover.”

“I have heard of these things, but did not believe them. This is truly your way?”

“Yes, Mazhten. We choose the person and hope they also choose us; we do not take. Just as Jedi do not steal babies, or have sex with children, or practice dark magic. All of these things are against our laws and our beliefs.”

Maogg snorted dismissively. “Only the southerners believe such nonsense about Jedi. I have met other Jedi, and I have looked into you, and I know such nonsense is stupid. I did not know about your manner of taking, but this is good.” In the dim light from the corridor Obi-Wan could see the satisfied smile. “The Mother will be thrice pleased.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There is much about us that you do not seem to understand. The Father Sun gives us strength of body, to fight, to hunt, to live. Mother Moon, however, gives us inner strength and the wisdom to properly use strength of mind and body. The Mother teaches us the Way of Life and how to use her special gifts. New takings are made when the moon is fullest to honor her. She will be thrice pleased when I take you; singly honored for the taking itself, doubly honored because you were a strong and honorable foe, and thrice honored because you have many seasons and are still untouched.”

“Mazhten, please, is there nothing I can do to change your mind?”

Maogg raised a hand to softly caress the cheek where the distraught tears had escaped. “You are mine and the Mother *will* have her offering.” He leaned in very close and spoke in a stern voice, pitched very low to avoid the monitors. “You are thinking like Father Sun, strong but muddy and emotional. You must learn to think like the Mother.”

Obi-Wan wiped his eyes, ashamed of his weakness, and made a querying noise.

“You have been in this place long enough to understand that the guards have great power over us and also want to be entertained by us. There are some who understand my people’s ways, and they have been willing to let my claim on you stand because they know what will happen in a few days. If I do not make the offering, they will think I am weak and they will take you away. Since no single man except me has been able to subdue you, they will move you to one of the four man cells. You are a good fighter, but you will not be able to stand very long against three others. Would you really rather have three of those southern animals using you than me?”

“No, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan shuddered at the prospect.

“I will keep you and you will serve me. In return I will teach you and take care of you. It is the right way of things. The Mother teaches that pain without purpose is a bad thing; obey me and life will be good, disobey and you will be punished. I will help you grow strong so that we will be able to leave this place when the time is right.”

“Yes, Mazhten. I think I understand.”

“Good. Sleep now.”

“Yes, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan turned over, hesitated a moment, then let Maogg spoon against him again on the narrow bunk. Although resigned to his fate for the moment, it was still quite a while before his thoughts quieted enough to let him drift off into the pleasant warmth.

 

**************** *****************

 

The next morning Obi-Wan woke when he felt the man beside him slide out of bed. Looking up, he saw Maogg speaking quietly to their morning guard. When he turned back with their morning bread and cheese, he seemed pleased with himself but spoke only a few curt commands as they went through the familiar routine of inspection and cleaning up. It was an exercise day and they found themselves herded out with a midmorning group.

As the prisoners began to drift apart to their respective groups or pairings, Obi-Wan noticed the man whose fingers the clansman had broken at the previous night’s meal. He had three others with him and they looked in an ugly mood.

“Mazhten,” he called softly. “To your left.”

An almost imperceptible nod was the only response.

The other prisoner moved directly into their path and stopped, hands on hips. “Well, well,” he said with a sneer. “If it isn’t the animal and his perverted little bitch.”

Maogg stared back silently.

“Listen, asshole,” continued the prisoner. “I know about you animals, living up in the hills and scaring folks with your mumbojumbo about suns and moons and that shit, and I ain’t scared of you. You might be able to take on that Jedi baby-fuckin’ piece of shit, but that don’t give ya rights to come in and steal food from real men, ‘specially not to give to your slimeball bitch.”

“I will do what I need to do,” replied Maogg quietly, seemingly oblivious to the other three prisoners now circling in behind him.

“Not on my turf, asshole. Get him, boys.”

All four men tried to attack the clansman but had clearly not counted on Obi-Wan protecting Maogg’s back. The Jedi took out one surprised prisoner in a flurry of blows; when he turned back he found that Maogg had already put down one man and was dealing handily with the remaining two. In just a few minutes all four attackers were unconscious on the ground in various states of disrepair. The clansman looked at the Jedi for a few moments before nodding to himself and silently turning away to continue walking to the other end of the yard. Obi-Wan allowed himself a touch of resentment that his effort had not even been acknowledged, since it was generally not expected among the prisoners for a ‘forced bitch’, as he was now obviously considered, to stand up for his owner. The apprentice did not have long to think about it, however, as the clansman went straight into their workout and stepped up the pace from their previous session, forcing Obi-Wan to work hard to keep up. The attitude of most of the other prisoners was made abundantly clear by crude comments as they passed by on their run; one slender young man crouched at his owner’s feet spat disgustedly in the Jedi’s direction.

The afternoon passed quietly enough. Obi-Wan was in a morose, almost sullen mood. The aftereffects of his wet exposure to the freezing cold still lingered; his head felt stuffy and his nose still dripped sporadically. He was not happy about having had to submit; tiny needles of shame and guilt kept jabbing at his self-confidence and esteem. His anxiety about his future, both his future duties and any hope of a possible rescue, kept him on edge. At the evening meal he choked on a stringy piece of meat; with the time he lost recovering he did not manage to finish all of his food. As a result, when they returned to the cell Maogg made him strip early and do pushups while he dispassionately lectured him about wasting hard won resources and the need to develop his strength and stamina. At lights out Maogg curtly told him he would require service after moonrise and allowed him to crawl into their shared bunk. Although grateful for the warmth, by that time Obi-Wan was in an exceptionally foul mood.

With his usual uncanny timing, Maogg arose when the moon was highest and went to the window. Obi-Wan adopted his now customary respectful crouch, shivering in the cold air. Devotions finished, the clansman went to his bunk, unlaced his pants and sat down. The younger man swallowed hard, then crawled over between the long legs. Maogg patted the Jedi’s head; in the dim light from the corridor Obi-Wan could see a pleased smile as the padawan took the flaccid cock in hand and began licking and sucking.

“Good news,” whispered Maogg as his cock rapidly hardened. “The moon will be full in three nights. I will begin preparing you for the taking.”

Although he did not stop his ministrations, Obi-Wan felt his gut tighten and had to battle hard to stop from vomiting right then and there. The taste of the bile rising in his throat threatened to overwhelm the taste of the sour, earthy cock in his mouth. He had not been paying much attention to the standard date lately and calculated furiously for a few seconds.

~ No. Force, no. Not that day, of all days. ~ He almost gagged in despair. ~ My twenty first birthday. That was supposed to be Qui-Gon’s day. All those years of waiting, planning, hoping. All destroyed by this Sith spawned place and this fucking bastard. No! ~

A red haze hung before the Jedi’s vision as the many tendays of anxiety, frustration and loneliness finally erupted in a blind rage at the sheer injustice of it all. Pulling back, he screamed in anger. Focusing on the nearest available point of attack, he grabbed the clansman’s cock in both hands and tried to bite down. He heard a thunderous roar above him before he flew across the cell and crashed into the far wall.

Shaking his head as he quickly recovered consciousness, Obi-Wan was dimly aware that the outer corridor had gone silent except for the pounding of boots as guards hurried to investigate the disturbance. He tried to sit up, then found himself hauled to his feet by his collars.

Maogg leaned down until he was eye to eye with the the apprentice. “You have disobeyed and have drawn blood where you should not. You will be punished,” he said in a quiet, level voice.

“Fuck you,” mumbled Obi-Wan defiantly, his head still swimming. He twisted away and kicked viciously. Maogg backed off from the unexpected attack and stumbled over onto a bunk. Obi-Wan staggered to the front of the cell, hanging onto the bars to hold himself up. As his vision cleared, he saw the clansman charging toward him. With a ragged yell, Obi-Wan recklessly threw himself forward. His shoulder connected solidly with Maogg’s gut, sending both men whoomphing down. He tried to scramble up, but the clansman grabbed him and the two men rolled on the floor. The snarling apprentice briefly managed to claw free and landed another satisfying blow, blood trickling from Maogg’s nose. With a quick rush the clansman enveloped Obi-Wan in a bear hug and took him down. Maogg used his size and weight to wrap up the smaller man, holding the wriggling Jedi on the floor while he snaked an arm around his throat and began throttling him. Obi-Wan fought as long as he could, but eventually lay limply, circles floating before his eyes as he began to black out. The clansman finally released him, then stood wiping the blood from his face, watching the young man gasping for breath.

Shaking his head almost sadly, Maogg replied softly, “You *will* learn obedience.” Dragging the Jedi with him, he moved to his bunk and sat down. He flipped the naked young man over so that Obi-Wan was draped over his thighs. He captured both wrists in one huge hand and held them behind the Jedi’s back and used one leg to pin his ankles. Maogg then began to spank the young man, stinging blows that rang loudly. Outside the cell, the two guards smiled and settled in to watch the show as the hill man disciplined his bitch.

At first still groggy from his near asphyxiation, it took Obi-Wan a few seconds to understand what was happening to him. His initial reaction was disbelief, then shocked outrage.

~ No! How dare he! I haven’t been spanked since I was fifteen and lied to Qui-Gon when he caught me trying to sneak in half-drunk. No one else has the right to do that to me! ~

The apprentice rode the crest of a huge adrenalin spike to surge up, arching his back, and managed to pull his legs and one arm loose. Clawing, kicking and biting, he tried to escape his tormentor, but his freedom was short-lived. Maogg grabbed the young Jedi and threw both of them down hard to the floor. Obi-Wan’s head slammed into the unyielding surface as the weight of the clansman drove his breath out in an explosive gust. Maogg took advantage of the apprentice’s dazed state to tie his hands together behind his back. The clansman seated himself again, repositioned the recalcitrant young Jedi, and continued the punishment.

Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it and immediately realized he was now trapped in the humiliating situation. His hands were pushed up high, painfully pulling at his shoulder joints, and his legs were held firmly. The first crash of the hard open hand against soft skin seared across his awareness, his entire body jerking from the power of the blow. The indignity of the punishment was driven home as the young man lay helplessly across the clansman’s legs, unable to escape as the blows continued. Obi-Wan felt blood rushing to his head, partly from the degrading position and partly from anger.

Maogg continued the methodical spanking, periodically shifting his target to cover the entire buttocks and upper thighs. Initially Obi-Wan was still so angry he was able to resist the pain. As the assault relentlessly continued, however, the pain overcame his resistance. He yelled, he cursed, he screamed, tears began flowing, but the blows continued without pause. Obi-Wan felt the burning heat spreading and each new blow became agony. He was beyond feeling emotions; there was no anger, no humiliation, only pain. It became so bad he shamelessly sobbed and begged, apologized, swore to obey, but still it continued until Obi-Wan was certain his glowing ass must be lighting up the cell from the heat. His face felt almost as hot and red as he flushed from embarrassment.

Eventually Maogg was satisfied and stopped, hand centered on the Jedi’s back. Obi-Wan’s whole consciousness was filled with pain and he was sobbing incoherently. For almost fifteen minutes, they simply sat there, Maogg rubbing his hand in circles on Obi-Wan’s back, until the young man had quieted. Outside the cell, the shift leader had arrived and chased the guards off to make their other rounds, but still lingered himself.

Gently Maogg lifted the Jedi down until he was on his knees, his body still trembling. He untied Obi-Wan’s hands, letting him put his forearms across the clansman’s muscular thighs to hold himself up. He wiped away the tears and held a wad of toilet paper for the young man to blow his nose.

“You were disobedient.”

“Yes, Mazhten. I apologize, Mazhten,” in a small voice, head hung down.

“Do you still wish to serve?”

“Yes, please, Mazhten.”

“Then your apology is accepted.” Maogg lifted Obi-Wan’s chin, looked into his eyes and continued very softly. “I understand that this is not easy for you, but this is a dangerous place and you must learn to live by the rules here if you want to live. You must learn to obey me completely, and I will take care of you. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, holding back more tears. Looking into the blue eyes, he felt the clansman’s complete sincerity and absolute conviction. He finally submitted emotionally as well as physically, giving himself over to his new master, silently begging Qui-Gon’s forgiveness for what he had to do. “Yes, Mazhten,” he answered sadly, feeling a numbness settle over his spirit as surely as the dampening collar had subdued his connection to the Force.

Maogg looked into Obi-Wan’s eyes for a long while. Finally content with what he saw, he patted the Jedi’s head. “It will be alright eventually; you will see.” He paused and leaned back, supporting himself on his arms. “Now, you may serve me.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

Fortunately Maogg had a great deal of patience and was willing to wait for the pained padawan to get himself together and fumble his way through the fellatio, finally wrapping his hand around Obi-Wan’s hands and fisting together until the hot seed was deposited in the Jedi’s mouth and the majority of it swallowed. Satisfied that the lesson had been fully learned, he then carefully helped the young man into the bunk and slid in next to him to pass the remainder of the night.

 

*************** *******************

 

The next few days were miserable for Obi-Wan. The first morning after his beating he could barely hobble to the toilet. Maogg released him from his duties to the extent of making the bunks himself and collecting the bread and cheese brought round by the guards. He let Obi-Wan lie on his own bunk with his pants down and used one of their small towels, soaked in cold water, to help reduce the heat and swelling in the bruised buttocks and thighs. During the afternoon he forced the Jedi to get up and walk slowly around the cell, gasping and sweating, so that he was able to make it to the dining hall under his own power. Inside the dining hall Obi-Wan’s face flamed almost as hot as his abused ass as he heard the comments and laughter, knowing that everyone on the floor had heard the whole episode. He managed to perch above his seat without quite sitting down, drawing more jokes and smirks, and kept his head down between hunched shoulders while he ate. They went to bed early, before lights out, and Maogg helped him in and out of the bunk for the nightly devotions.

The second morning was painful but not nearly as bad. Maogg got up early for another chat with the morning guard and came back holding a plastic bottle of oil. Obi-Wan paid little attention except for dully wondering what the clansman could possibly have had to trade for it. Maogg rousted the Jedi out of bed and put him back to work. They again ended up on an early morning exercise yard shift. The clansman allowed a longer period of stretching to allow Obi-Wan to work out some of the stiffness, but was adamant that they run for at least an hour, albeit at a very reduced pace. Obi-Wan thought he would die with each painful step, but any slowing earned him another sharp swat on the ass and a round of jeers from the other prisoners so he gritted his teeth and finished the run. He did feel looser when they got to back to their cell and Maogg periodically made him get up, stretch and pace around so he didn’t stiffen up.

Also starting the second morning began what Maogg called ‘the preparation’. He refused to allow Obi-Wan to eat any solid food but insisted that he begin drinking large quantities of water throughout the day, allegedly for cleansing, muttering about not having all the supplies for a proper cleansing. By the end of the day Obi-Wan felt like he was sloshing inside. After the evening meal of two bowls of soup, Maogg had him strip and stretch out on his own bunk. He took some of the oil he had obtained and slowly massaged all of the tender flesh, soothing much of the pain and helping the skin soften. Obi-Wan was surprised at how effective the massage was; it was almost as good as when Qui-Gon used to tend to him and he idly wondered whether this was another of Mother Moon’s mysterious gifts. Having finished, Maogg put one hand on Obi-Wan’s back and leaned over to whisper to the drowsing Jedi.

“You must stay relaxed as I prepare you. I don’t want to hurt you.” He moved one hand to the upturned ass and poured a little oil into the crack.

“What?” Obi-Wan looked up, an eyebrow raised in query.

“It is a very bad sign if you are injured during the first taking. I will help you learn to open and relax.”

“Huh? Open what?” Sudden understanding flashed across his face as he felt a large finger touch his opening. “Oh,” Obi-Wan said in a small voice as he flushed bright red. He put his head down, closed his eyes and worked hard at making himself a distant observer of the whole proceedings.

For the next hour Maogg carefully massaged the area around the tight sphincter, gradually working his smallest finger inside, then both of his smallest fingers. Obi-Wan was finally able to relax enough to allow both fingers to move in and out unimpeded, slowly stretching the small opening. Maogg finally grunted, “Enough for the first time,” and let Obi-Wan rest for a while.

Maogg worked on the apprentice just before they went to bed, after the early morning singing and service, and again after they woke. Throughout the day he forced the Jedi to drink water, to periodically exercise and work on stretching the anal muscles. Obi-Wan still blushed and smarted inside at each invasion of his body, but from practical necessity acquiesced to the lessons, learning to release the muscles enough to fully accept three large fingers. Drinking his soup at the evening meal, Obi-Wan again found himself the center of much avid attention, as if the entire place knew what was to happen later that night and was eagerly waiting to participate vicariously. He found the atmosphere very unsettling, but it did not seem to bother Maogg in the slightest.

After the meal the clansman initiated a joint workout until they had both worked up a good sweat. He removed the strips of cloth from the apprentice’s collar and crotch, washed them out and set them aside to dry. He had Obi-Wan strip, did another anal stretching, then carefully washed every inch of the young man’s body from head to toe. He combed out the Jedi’s hair and replaited the long braid himself. Obi-Wan had a sudden attack of deja vu, picturing himself back at the Temple with Qui-Gon deftly handling the long slender tresses. He shuddered and had to fight hard to repress the sudden urge to cry, clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists until the emotion subsided.

The two men switched places. For the first time Obi-Wan got to see Maogg fully unclothed and was impressed by the smooth, hard muscles and numerous scars as he carefully washed and groomed the big body, a body worthy of a finely tuned Jedi Master. That was a thought he hastily banished before it got him into new trouble, ashamed that he had even considered it. The padawan had an inspiration and took advantage of the opportunity to get rid of what had been an ongoing minor irritant; he persuaded the skeptical clansman to let him soak his fingers and used a couple of rough stones he had picked up in the exercise yard to carefully clean and file the ragged nails until they were relatively smooth. Concentrating on such minor details helped Obi-Wan to avoid fixating on what was yet to come.

Once both men were clean, Maogg put the Jedi face down on his own bunk and slowly massaged him, head to toe. When he was finished, he had Obi-Wan turn over and started on the fingers.

Lulled into relaxed drowsiness by the long massage, Obi-Wan decided to take a chance on something that had been bothering him for a while. “Mazhten, may I ask you a question?”

“Yes,” was the absent reply.

Nodding toward the front of the cell where the camera stared at them unblinkingly and the occasional guard wandered by, he asked “Doesn’t it bother you that we are always watched? Where I come from, things like sex are done privately.”

A rare chuckle answered him. “There is little privacy within the clan. When we are on the move between hunting, we live in tents or in the open. During the winter, many families live together at our base holding to conserve heat. In any event, a first taking is never done privately if there is family to provide witness. When I took my first wife, my brother, parents, grandparents, and great great grandmother were there. Births, deaths, sex, discipline, it is all part of life. The Mother sees all, she knows all, there is no shame in seeing.”

Obi-Wan shuddered at the notion of his Grand-Master being present if Qui-Gon had actually agreed to initiate his padawan into sex; the picture of Yoda stumping around and whacking them with his gimer stick if they didn’t get the positions right was downright frightening. Part of Maogg’s comment caught his attention.

“How many wives do you have, Mazhten?”

There was a long pause. “At the moment, none. My first wife was killed on a hunt. When I offered for a special task, to spy on the southerners, I cut the joining from my second wife if I was captured. She has probably gone back to her own family by now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Life goes on,” shrugged Maogg. He continued brusquely, “We must get ready for tonight.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

The rest of the massage proceeded in silence and was not completed until after the lights went out. Maogg continued by the dim light from the corridor. He rethreaded the strip of cloth around both collars, tying it off. He then positioned the Jedi in a spread-eagle position on the bunk, hands over his head hanging on to the top support bar and legs spread. Placing the second strip of cloth at the foot of the bed, Maogg slowly caressed the Jedi’s cock, stroking it into fullness as he uttered a low chant. When it was hard and dripping, he took the strip of cloth and wrapped it very tightly in a figure eight, first around the base of the cock, then around the balls, leaving a quick release knot at the end.

Obi-Wan had closed his eyes while his cock was being aroused and grunted when the cloth suddenly tightened around its base. He shifted uncomfortably as his bound cock strained futilely in the cool air. “Mazhten – “

“Silence.” Obi-Wan subsided. “The mother will rise high and early tonight. We must be ready when she calls.”

Maogg swiftly stroked himself to hardness, then knelt beside the bunk, eyes closed. He chanted softly to himself, both hands on Obi-Wan, one hand resting on his belly and the other slowly fondling the upright cock. After what seemed like an eternity to the young Jedi but in reality was probably less than half an hour, the clansman suddenly rose and motioned to Obi-Wan to stand up. Removing the mattress, he carefully positioned it on the floor at the front of the cell, ensuring that he could see out the window from a kneeling position. By now, several guards had gathered in front of the cell and the entire corridor was unnaturally silent as all waited expectantly for the deflowering of the despised Jedi. Obi-Wan could feel his stomach fluttering, cold sweat gathering, and all the benefit from the earlier washing and massage seemed to be rapidly dissipating.

Standing in front of Obi-Wan, Maogg put a hand on each side of his face and forced him to look up. “Your duty is to serve,” he said softly.

“Yes, Mazhten,” replied Obi-Wan, licking dry lips.

“Obey me and I will take care of you.”

“Yes, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan could feel his heart racing and his gut churning as he was led to the mattress and put down on his hands and knees. His cock was hard and throbbing from the forced stimulation.

~ Force, this is really it, isn’t it? ~

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and hung his head. There was nothing more he could do except endure.

~ I’m sorry, Master. I wasn’t strong enough. Please try to understand. I’m so sorry. ~

As he felt the heat of the clansman move in behind his spread legs, Obi-Wan began to repeat the Code in his head to distract himself.

~ There is no emotion, there is peace  
there is no ignorance, there is knowledge  
there is no passion, there is serenity  
there is no death, there is the Force  
Please forgive me, Master

There is no emotion, there is peace  
there is no ignorance, there is knowledge  
there is no passion, there is serenity  
there is no death, there is the Force  
Please forgive me, Master ~

Maogg began a slow chant as he used a liberal dose of oil to begin slowly stretching the Jedi’s still tight anus. Two fingers, then a long series of three finger stretches while the other hand continued to lightly caress the bound cock. Finally satisfied that the young man was as ready as he was going to get, he poured more oil into his hand and began slicking his own hard cock.

Obi-Wan involuntarily bucked forward when he felt the oily head of the huge organ touch his opening, but the large hands on his hips quickly tightened and held him in place, painful where the thumbs dug in to his still tender ass. They stayed like that for several moments. The low, slow chant suddenly changed, however, becoming higher, more urgent. Obi-Wan looked up briefly to see a bright, full moon high overhead as he felt the cock begin to push harder, seeking entrance to his body. He closed his eyes again, trying to will his body to stay relaxed as his mind tried to withdraw. The clansman’s chant seemed to draw him in, making it easier to lose himself in the ritual.

~ There is no emotion, there is peace  
there is no ignorance, there is knowledge  
there is no passion, there is - ~

“AAHAH.”

Maogg chanted and pushed forward, pausing when the head of his cock popped through the outer ring and Obi-Wan gasped a sharp cry of pain. He held Obi-Wan’s hips still as he slowly began to push forward again, never allowing the chant to falter. The gradual penetration continued until Maogg’s cock was fully contained in the hot slick sheath. Once more Maogg paused, a satisfied tone now underlying the chant. Just as the apprentice seemed to become accustomed to the intruder in his body, Maogg began moving again. He continued with long slow strokes, outward until only the head was still inside the tight opening, then in again until his heavy balls slapped the tender flesh. On the sixth stroke he reached around and released the cloth strip around Obi-Wan’s cock and balls.

~ There is no emotion, there is peace  
there is no passion, there is serenity. . . . ~

“Oh Force, it hurts. . . ,“ he whimpered softly.

Blocking out the lewd calls of encouragement from the guards and other prisoners, Obi-Wan tried to stay relaxed to reduce the burning sensation in his ass. The huge cock filled Obi-Wan’s guts, feeling like it was splitting him in two. On the down stroke when he was completely filled, the coarse pubic hair and hot flesh were painful reminders of the beating he had endured earlier. Obi-Wan knew the clansman was trying to be relatively gentle but it still hurt, and his efforts to distance himself from the unwanted invasion of his body were not very successful. The sudden rush of additional blood to his engorged cock when the cloth ring was released was a welcome distraction. He felt the chant become even more urgent as the clansman began to shorten his strokes and make them more forceful and frequent. When Maogg shifted his position to scrape across Obi-Wan’s prostrate, he was able to release himself more fully into the ritual, especially when the clansman started to fist the Jedi’s cock.

~ No emotion. . . peace. . .no passion. . .Master. . . . ~ Conscious thought was rapidly giving way to hot driving reaction.

Both men began to sweat as the chant’s intensity continued to increase. Obi-Wan slipped down to rest his head on his forearms as the big man began pounding rapidly into him. He began thrusting forward into the tight hand on his cock and backward onto the invading column. Time seemed to be suspended and there was only the pounding and heat, blood roaring in his ears, musk heavy in his nostrils, pinpoints of light beginning to flicker on the back of his closed eyelids. There was a moaning and sobbing that Obi-Wan vaguely recognized as coming from his own throat.

With a final cycle of rapid thrusts and a shout of triumph, Maogg drove both men to ejaculation. Obi-Wan felt the hot liquid pumping into his guts at the same time as a stream of his own thick semen spurted out over the fist that still enclosed his turgid shaft. Two large hands held his hips; he could feel the hot cock in his ass slowly softening as he heard Maogg change to a different chant. He felt a surge of disgust at his own participation and regret for his lost virginity in this shameful way. His last coherent thought was a final cry of despair, ~ Master, I’m so sorry. ~

The white light streamed into the cold cell, still falling directly on the two men inside. Maogg looked up to the Mother, his spirit filled with the warmth and approval he felt from her. He held Obi-Wan’s hips up, his slowly softening cock still fully embedded, as he finished the ritual with the short chant of thanks for the Mother’s blessing. Finally complete, he pulled out, a sticky string of white semen oozing from the Jedi’s body as he let him collapse forward onto the mattress. Ignoring the sarcastic cheers and catcalls from the slowly dispersing audience, he cleaned himself up, pleased to see that there was no blood on his cock. He pulled the semiconscious Obi-Wan to his feet, half carrying him as he steered him over to the sink and cleaned him up, then put him in bed after assuring himself there were no serious injuries. The clansman finished by throwing the mattress back onto the empty bunk, then slid naked beneath the blankets, spooning behind the silent Jedi with a happy grunt of pleasure at the skin to skin contact. It had been a good taking, a good offering, and the Mother was very pleased. Caressing the young man’s face, he frowned briefly as he wiped away hot tears, then dismissed the pity. The Jedi was young and his will to survive was strong; he would get over it. Maogg smiled as he draped a possessive arm over the naked body in front of him and drifted off in satisfied sleep.

 

******************* ******************

 

Obi-Wan woke slowly, enjoying the warmth of the bed in contrast to the cold air he felt on his face. He started to burrow a little deeper in the pleasant nest until he became pointedly aware of the pain within pain in his nether regions when he moved. The sudden intrusion of a hard hot cock into the crack of his ass brought the memories of previous events flooding back in nauseating detail. He yelped and tried to scramble away but found himself pinned in place between a hard body and the wall, a big hand across his mouth and an arm wrapped tightly around his belly. Naked skin was hot against his back. A warm mouth next to his ear breathed a single word almost inaudibly.

“Ben.”

The Jedi immediately froze. This was the first time the clansman had spoken his name since they had been thrown together. He felt his heart racing and tried to calm himself. He turned his head slightly as he felt the hand across his mouth loosen.

“Yes, Mazhten,” whispered Obi-Wan.

“You are sore?”

“Yes, Mazhten, very sore.”

There was a muffled grunt. Obi-Wan felt the hard heat at his ass move lower as the hand across his belly shifted lower to caress his cock.

“Mazhten –“ The hand closed over his mouth again.

“Silence. Open your legs a little more.”

Fearful of the consequences of refusal but dreading the result of complying, Obi-Wan obeyed. A few moments later, however, he was puzzled to feel the hot cock slide between his legs and up against his balls instead of the painful intrusion he had expected.

“It looks the same to the camera.” Obi-Wan could almost hear the wolfish grin of a minor victory over authority in the heavy whisper as he realized what the clansman was doing and smiled in relief as the hand was again removed from his mouth.

“Thank you, Mazhten,” whispered the Jedi as he felt Maogg begin to slowly hump against his sore ass. His own cock was rapidly firming in the clansman’s hand.

“This is still a very dangerous place, young Jedi, and I fear we will be here many tendays before I can try to get us out. There is something strange happening here, and we must be very careful until I understand and know what to do about it.”

“I don’t understand, Mazhten.”

“Moan a little, they will expect you to be in pain so soon after being taken.” Obi-Wan complied, an easy task as his own cock was now erect and throbbing whether he wanted it to or not. Maogg continued softly, “Many of my people have been put in southern prisons, many have died. They seem to take pleasure in putting us in dark places where we cannot see the Father or Mother, in tormenting us when we fight back to escape or putting us in with other prisoners to see us fight. I had expected to be sent to such a place.” Obi-Wan felt the rhythm of the hard cock between his legs quicken. “Instead, I am here. There is a window, I have my own clothes, I have you. Southerners may be superstitious animals, but that does not mean they are stupid. They want something from us and I must learn what it is.”

Obi-Wan moaned a little louder and began moving his hips in counterpoint to the thrusts from behind. The sweat between his balls and the juncture of his legs made a slick tunnel for the clansman’s pumping cock as his large hand tightened on the Jedi’s own organ.

Maogg was breathing heavily by now. “It is more important than ever that you serve and obey. They expect to see a Jedi bitch and that is what they will get. As long as we are in here, you can never be Ben, only boy. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. He understood the reasoning, but knew it was going to be hard and miserable. Finally he sighed and whispered resignedly, “Yes, Mazhten.”

The only further sounds from the end cell were the moans and grunts of the Jedi bitch and his owner.

 

***************** ********************

 

Life gradually settled into a pattern over the next tenday. Maogg had refastened the cloth strip around Obi-Wan’s cock, indicating it would have to do since he didn’t have the proper markers. He had also decided that his charge should be barechested, allowing him to wear his tunic only when they were outside the cell. Obi-Wan’s protest that it was cold in the cell and getting colder every day earned him a dozen swats on the ass and an extra hour of calisthenics. Each morning the Jedi was responsible for cleaning the cell and any other required work. Maogg set aside an hour in the morning to begin teaching the young man the language of the clans, starting with simple everyday words and the shorter chants. An hour in the evening was devoted to history and culture of the clans, learning about their seasonal migrations, family relationships, warrior traditions, the fighting ways, and the hunting ways. Obi-Wan found that Maogg was exceptionally vigilant and swiftly quashed any signs of rebellion, so he fell in with the schedule and obedience soon became a habit.

The rest of the day was usually divided between periods of exercise and periods of rest and contemplation. The clansman pushed hard every day during exercise periods, putting in as much if not more work as he demanded from the younger man. Obi-Wan had not been able to determine just what Maogg did during the rest periods; he did not seem to be doing conventional meditation nor did he seem to be completely asleep. Finally deciding it wasn’t worth worrying about, he devoted his efforts to his own meditations and trying not to think about Qui-Gon and home.

There were more elements to their routine. Maogg was cultivating quite a relationship with the early morning guard who kept him supplied with oil, but he would not discuss what he provided in return. Between the two cellmates, they had determined which of their fellow prisoners were the most disliked and Maogg concentrated most of his food snatching efforts on those men, which seemed to please both the guards and the rest of the prisoners. There were few challenges any more in the exercise yard after Maogg and Obi-Wan put down another group of six, although Obi-Wan’s support of his owner earned him a lot of disgusted sneers. At night or after the moon singing, sometimes both, Obi-Wan was required to provide sexual services. Maogg instructed him in the finer points of how he liked to have fellatio performed, and became less tolerant of mistakes. The clansman was particularly fond of having the sensitive area just behind the crown of his cock licked but any hint of teeth earned a swift backhand. The first time the apprentice managed to get the entire cock down his throat without gagging he earned a beaming smile of approval and an enthusiastic jacking off from Maogg and was allowed to sleep in an extra hour. Obi-Wan soon noticed that he was invariably fucked from behind, whether it be on his hands and knees, bent over the bunk or in bed; he was certain that it was done to reinforce his sense of submission, but decided it was just as well so he didn’t have to actually watch while he was being mounted. Whether or not Obi-Wan was required or allowed to achieve release seemed to depend partly on how well he had done that day and partly on Maogg’s mood.

Occasionally there would be a break in the routine. Every four or five days mail was brought in for prisoners; although neither man in the end cell expected any, it did make for some changes in the conversations that floated up and down the hall. About once each eight to ten days a section of cells was greentagged; all clothes, towels, sheets, blankets and mattresses were exchanged for clean ones smelling of soap and disinfectant. A prisoner trustee work detail dropped off cleaning supplies while other trustees from the low security section handled the exchange. The inmates, in this case Obi-Wan, were expected to wash down every surface in the cell they could reach with the hot soapy disinfectant solution. After the cell was clean, the naked inmates were chained together and taken down the hall to the shower room next to the dining facility. In there their hair was cut or trimmed, they were thoroughly soaped down and then hosed off. There was almost a fight when one of the trustees wanted to take Maogg’s native clothes but a guard intervened; he had to take them off for the shower but was allowed to keep them in the cell.

Obi-Wan became grateful for the routine. Resigned to his role, the routine allowed him to slip into a numb emotional retreat and bury much of the constant humiliation and anxiety out of sight. He still had trouble disengaging himself when he was being fucked, but within the bounds of their relationship he found that Maogg, although a ruthless disciplinarian, could be almost affectionate when they were mostly hidden from the camera and guards under their blankets in the darkness. He seldom kissed, but his hands could be surprisingly gentle and Obi-Wan found he actually enjoyed the occasional belly rubs with which Maogg rewarded him. At first this troubled the young man, but he soon realized that the clansman was the only person in the entire prison who treated him with any sort of kindness at all. Amidst the constant stream of abuse from guards and prisoners, Obi-Wan found himself almost pathetically grateful for the bits of affection and praise he was able to win from his owner, even though he loathed himself for yielding to the need to seek them.

Under the cover of darkness Obi-Wan could also occasionally entice the clansman into talking; he was fascinated by the contrast between the intelligent and sometimes acerbic wit the man displayed in private and the stoic, semi-intelligent façade he maintained during the day. Maogg was also living up to his promise to take care of the Jedi. The twice daily inspections revealed that Obi-Wan was regaining all of the weight he had lost; he was feeling physically better and was making good progress in regaining his former muscle tone and endurance. Although becoming more emotionally withdrawn, his physical condition and his knowledge of Maogg’s people was improving. Obi-Wan could now carry on a simple conversation in the native tongue and was beginning to gain an appreciation for the complexity of relationships in and among the clans. Also, despite the frequency of sexual activity, the clansman was usually very careful to ensure that he did not actually damage his property, at least not significantly.

The eleventh day after his taking, which was how Obi-Wan was beginning to measure time, saw a major break in the monotony and the answer to Maogg’s puzzle. After the morning feeding, two guards came to their cell.

“Alright, assholes. On yur feet at the front of the cell.”

Both men moved to the front of the cell, stopping about a foot from the bars.

The senior guard held up his control rod. “Listen real careful. The warden is gonna be here in a couple of minutes with the Board of Governors. We’re gonna be watching ya real close and the rod is cranked up to level 6 out of 10. Don’t do anything stupid and make sure ya address the warden as ‘sir’. Got it?”

Both men nodded and were very careful to stand still as a group of well dressed men and women came trooping down the corridor almost like a tour group. A tall, distinguished looking man led the group, occasionally pointing out something in a cell as they went. When they arrived at the end cell, the group gathered around the door.

“This, ladies and gentleman, is my most successful experiment to date. As you know, I run a clean, well disciplined prison and we haven’t had an uprising or a successful escape in over twelve years. Unfortunately, there are a few problem types of prisoners that no one has had much success with, mostly clansman from up north, and too many have died without serving out their sentence. I’ve been studying these people, learning their customs and ways.” He turned around and glanced admiringly at Maogg. “They are truly magnificent warriors and hunters, and have a rather high level of cunning despite their superstitions and their primitive way of life. I had a unique opportunity come up recently to attack two problems at once. A Jedi scumbag arrived here and then a fresh highlander. I decided to use their own natures to bring them into a natural symbiosis so both would be stable prisoners and serve out their sentences. I have to say that the results so far have surpassed even my fondest hopes, and they have been remarkably trouble free. I present our two prisoners, Ben, a Jedi sentenced for baby stealing, and Maogg, a clansman put here for spying and killing a soldier.” He paused as the group looked over the two cellmates.

The man turned around to address the prisoners, a pleasant smile on his face. “Maogg, I am Warden Herev. I know damn well that you’re a lot brighter than you let on to the guards, so I expect you’ve been wondering why you’ve been treated so differently from most of the highlanders we get in here.” He paused expectantly.

Maogg looked at him warily before quietly answering, “Yes, sir.”

“What do you think of your cellmate, Maogg?”

The clansman put a possessive hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Mine.”

The warden turned his head, raising an “I told you so” eyebrow at the group, before replying. “Would you like to keep him for a long time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I put you in with the Jedi scum because, despite his sick perversions and moral cowardice, he was a little too much for any one prisoner to tame, and I didn’t want to throw him in with a group because they’d just end up killing him too quickly. No, I want the piece of shit to live a long time but not enjoy it. Your people are strong and know how to tame an asshole like that, put him in his place and keep him there without killing him, and so far you have done just that.” The man stepped up very close to the bars. “Now then, Maogg, you understand that you were sentenced to many years in here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I know how important it is to your people to pay proper respects to the Father and Mother, to stay strong, to be able to feel the wind. I’m willing to let you stay in this cell, take care of your little Jedi, make your prayers, if you just do a couple of things for me.”

“What do you want, sir?”

“The first is that you stay out of trouble, the other is that you keep that perverted piece of shit in line, keep him in his place and well fucked so he knows he is well and truly owned, and keep him alive. Can you do that?”

It required only a few moments of consideration before the clansman responded, “Yes, sir. I will do that.”

“Good.” He turned to the guards. “Open the door.” Despite skeptical miens, the guards hastened to obey.

The warden walked into the cell, then casually circled the two prisoners as if he were inspecting livestock at the market. He stopped in front of Obi-Wan, then began speaking in a pleasant tone which belied the gleam of hatred in his eyes.

“You Jedi are about the most disgusting assholes I know of. You prance around the galaxy acting all high and mighty and mysterious, but really you’re no better than the rest of the scum in this place. We know all about you perverts, fornicating with children and animals, stealing babies for your secret rituals, using that Force stuff to kill good people. But you know, take away your fancy little toys and your precious Force, and you’re just another variety of disgusting criminal. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on one of you animals for a long time.”

Pursing his lips, the warden tried to spit on Obi-Wan, but the Jedi raised his arm defensively and started to turn away. Before either the guard or Obi-Wan could react, Maogg swiftly punched the Jedi, sending him crashing into the cell wall with the force of the blow. He then deliberately walked over to the stunned young man, ripped off his pants, then pushed him onto his knees in front of the warden. “Apologize,” he commanded gruffly.

Tasting blood, Obi-Wan knew his only recourse was exact obedience. Keeping his eyes down, he addressed the warden, “I’m sorry, sir. I should not have moved.”

“Tell the warden what you are, boy.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Obi-Wan obeyed again. “I am the Jedi bitch of Maogg of the White Panther clan, sir.” He heard the excited whispers from the group and the humiliating epithets they were using to describe him, but could do nothing except endure it.

The warden beamed as Maogg stood silently beside the Jedi. “Very good, Maogg of the White Panther clan,” he said. “I think we understand each other very well, very well indeed.”

“Yes, sir.”

The warden turned back to the kneeling Obi-Wan with a cruel smile. “Actually, Jedi, I have something that will probably interest you.” He turned to an assistant, then held a flat picture in front of Obi-Wan. “This image was taken while you were being held at the courthouse for your trial. Recognize anyone?”

Obi-Wan looked at the large colored picture. In a brilliantly floodlit courtyard outside the courthouse, a lone man was trying to fight off a squad of police. He was tall, with long hair, a neatly trimmed beard and was wielding a brilliant green lightsaber. It was also evident that he was bleeding heavily from his left shoulder; the dark robe was half torn off and the cream tunic had turned bright red across half its surface. Feeling his heart plummeting, Obi-Wan slowly answered, “Yes, sir. He. . .he is a Jedi Master from Coruscant.”

“*Was* a Jedi Master from Coruscant, I believe is the proper tense. Fell right into our trap, he did,” boasted the warden proudly. “We knew someone would probably try to come after you, and we installed every Force detector we could get our hands on around the courthouse. Worth every penny, I assure you, to catch the bastard. He killed three of the guards but we got him, alright. Idiot tried to run to the river and we blasted him with a couple dozen grenades. I’ll bet you recognize these also, don’t you?”

The assistant stepped forward and opened a large flat box. Inside were the remnants of a bloodstained robe and tunic. Nestled on top were two badly scorched and battered lightsabers.

Until now, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel any worse than he already did. Seeing the lightsabers, though, tore his heart out. His mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out. He felt frozen inside as he stared mindlessly at the two broken handles for what felt like an agonizing eternity. A cuff from Maogg jolted him back to the present, and he realized he was expected to answer.

“Uh, yes, sir. That one. . .it was my lightsaber, sir,” he mumbled. “The other one . . .” Obi-Wan had to stop and take a ragged breath before continuing. “I. . . it must have belonged to the other Jedi, sir.”

“Well, they belong to me, now, and I have them prominently displayed in my office. I’ll tell you something else, boy. We’ve had Force monitors in place here since you arrived, my little Jedi, and there has not been one little flicker of the needles. Not the teeniest, tiniest, little indication at all. All your so-called friends have left you here to rot, you worthless piece of shit. So you can give up any notions you ever had of being rescued.” Everyone seemed to think this was a fine joke and there was a great deal of laughter at Obi-Wan’s expense as he knelt there, shivering, staring helplessly at the grisly trophies in their bloody nest.

As the laughter died down, the warden turned to the clansman. “Maogg, we’ve been looking at the tapes from the monitors and it’s been quite impressive how you handled your bitch. I promised the Board members that you would give us a live demonstration of how you keep him in line.”

“A demonstration?” A shadow of disgust flashed over his face, a cloud in the blue eyes.

A voice called out from the group, “You know, keeping him in his proper place.” Another voice chimed in, “Yeah, fuck him already.” There was a brief titter of embarrassed laughter, mostly from the women.

“Do a good job, Maogg, and I’ll get you some proper markers for your bitch,” the warden said.

“Yes, sir. Silver ones, please, sir,” rumbled Maogg, well aware that he didn’t really have a choice in the matter of what was to happen next.

The warden nodded and stepped back by the cell door. The group outside crowded in closer to the bars as Maogg turned to the silent, kneeling Jedi. There was an eager gleam of anticipation in their eyes.

“Boy, prepare me.”

Obi-Wan turned dully and watched as Maogg unlaced his pants. He wasn’t quite numb enough to overcome his revulsion to being put on display like an animal, but he was vaguely aware that he should be appreciative of the fact that Maogg evidently intended to provide an opportunity for Obi-Wan to get some saliva on the big cock instead of just dry fucking him. He began trying to work up some spit in his cottony mouth.

Maogg stroked his cock, bringing it rapidly erect, as the Jedi shuffled forward resignedly on his knees. Obi-Wan recognized the clansman’s short chant as a plea to the Mother for forgiveness before he grabbed the padawan’s braid and jerked him forward, shoving his cock in the young man’s mouth. For several minutes the Jedi dutifully sucked, licked and fondled, finally taking the hard organ deep into his mouth and throat as he had been taught, trying to get as much moisture on the cock as possible. Maogg face fucked him for a while before jerking the braid up again. He then gave the command, “Down,” pointing to the center of the cell.

Obi-Wan crawled to the designated spot and crouched on his knees and forearms, ass high in the air, and waited. He shut out the buzz of excited conversation, shut out his own emotions, let his body simply relax so it could absorb the abuse as best it could. He flinched as he felt the clansman kneel behind him and slide his organ down the crack of his ass. Large hands gripped his hips as he tried to loosen his muscles and open up. His efforts mattered little, however, as the huge cock positioned at his opening suddenly thrust forward, half its length buried in one tremendous shove that ripped a scream from his throat. The Jedi had barely recovered from the first impact when another brutal push caused him to scream again, a cry of agony that echoed up and down the long corridor and out the window, drawing even the attention of the hardened guards in the watch towers. Tears flowed freely as the hard cock withdrew, then began punching in and out in long strokes, pulling out almost all the way and then plunging back in. Obi-Wan felt like his guts were being ripped out through his ass, but could only cry out helplessly as he was mercilessly impaled on the driving cock. The pounding seemed to go on forever, though in reality the clansman was working hard and fast toward a swift conclusion. There was no diversion today; Maogg didn’t touch Obi-Wan’s cock and any contact with his prostate was purely accidental. With a final grunt, the clansman pulled out and sprayed a stream of hot semen over the pale ass and lower back, then pushed himself up, going to the sink to wash his blood streaked cock as the visitors took their last shot at the collapsed Jedi. Many ventured inside the cell far enough to spit on Obi-Wan as they unleashed their venomous tongues on the ‘perverted animal’. Finally they had had enough, the door clanged shut, and the congratulatory speeches spilled down the corridor as the tawdry gaggle clattered toward the exit.

Maogg waited, eyes hard, until the place was silent except for the muted sibilance of inmate conversations. He drew a very deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing his anger, before going to the silent, fallen Jedi. Very carefully he picked him up and deposited him on the bunk, then checked him for injuries, frowning at what he found. The clansman gently cleaned the battered body, then let Obi-Wan sleep, putting a blanket over him as he curled up into a fetal position. He sat beside the young man for several hours, praying to the Father for strength for his little Jedi to survive this place and to the Mother to seek her help with the gift of healing. Maogg stroked the cloth-covered arm as he thoughtfully tried to understand what impact the death of Obi-Wan’s obviously beloved master was going to have. Behind the stoic facade he maintained for the guards, he was worried more than he cared to admit.

The afternoon sun was peering in when two guards came to the cell door.

“Alright, asshole, listen good. The doctor’s comin’ to look at your bitch in a couple of minutes. Warden sent him down special. This is the real doctor, not the trustee, so mind yer manners or you’ll wake up on the floor. Ya got that?”

“Yes,” grunted Maogg.

“Well then, wake up the little pervert and make sure he understands it too.”

Maogg did not answer. He gently shook Obi-Wan’s shoulder until the eyes opened, though there was little light of comprehension in them.

“Wake up, boy. The doctor is coming to see you.”

There was no verbal response, but at least the eyes stayed open.

“Be good for the doctor, understand?” Maogg almost felt like he was talking to the wall, and repeated his command, at last getting a faint nod from the Jedi.

A short, balding man stood at the cell door, bag in hand, light blue working overtunic fraying at the sleeves. He looked at the occupants of the cell.

“Are you sure this is safe? I don’t normally make house calls, you know.”

“Yes, sir. These two will be alright. The big one’s the warden’s special pet project, and he ain’t gonna risk losing that.”

“Well, if you say so.” The doctor looked doubtfully at Maogg, then shrugged. “Alright, let’s get this over with. Open the door.”

The man stepped inside as the door and stepped briskly to the bunk. “You’re the clansman Maogg?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Doctor Trawvon, the prison medical officer.” He drew a small leather bag from his pocket and tossed it at Maogg. “The warden says you need markers for your boy. Pick out what you want while I take care of him.”

“Yes, sir.” Maogg set the bag aside, then turned to remove the blanket. “He’s only partly awake, sir. The warden wanted a good show for his guests.”

“Hmph,” grunted the doctor. “I’ll just bet he did.” He pulled on a pair of medical gloves, then, with Maogg’s help, uncurled the semi-conscious body. After a quick but surprisingly gentle examination, he rummaged in his bag.

“This,” he said, holding up an injector, “is a wide spectrum antibiotic. It will take care of any general infections.” He pressed the device against Obi-Wan’s arm.

“Now, I need to clean out his rectum and anal area. There’s some tearing that needs to be treated.” He pulled out a bag of clear solution with a small plastic nozzle attached to the bottom, which he inserted into Obi-Wan’s anus after applying a local anaesthetic. He squeezed the bag until most of the liquid had been inserted, leaving the nozzle in place as a plug. There was an uncomfortable ten minutes of silence while the medicine did its work. Obi-Wan hardly stirred during the procedure, and in the end Maogg had to lift him and quickly deposit him on the toilet, holding him upright as the liquid was expelled. He then put the Jedi back down on the bed face down.

“Can I trust you with his medicine?” asked the doctor as he pulled a handful of suppositories from his bag.

“Yes, sir. I understand what those are for.”

“Good.” He inserted the slender lozenge into the Jedi’s anus. “Insert another one before you go to bed, then one more in the morning, at midday and tomorrow night. That should take care of any lingering infections.” He paused and looked at the highlander with distaste. “That is, if you can leave him alone for a few days without tearing him apart again.”

“Yes, sir. I won’t hurt him.”

“Right. Well then, let’s get the rest of this done. Turn him over.” He waited until Obi-Wan was turned face up. “You decided what you want put on him?”

“Yes, sir. Only these, sir.” Maogg held out three silver rings, one large and two small, and held back a thick flat ring with an adjustable binder.

“Going in for the simple style, eh. No tattoos?”

“No, sir. He has to earn those later.”

“Fine.” The doctor turned to Obi-Wan, who was finally taking a vague interest in the proceedings. “You see these, boy?” he said, holding up the rings.

Obi-Wan focused on the twinkling silver for a moment, a small frown momentarily creasing his forehead. “Yessir,” he whispered.

“I’m going to put these on you, and it’s going to be sore for a few days, so don’t play with them. Got it?”

“Yessir.”

“You, hold him down.” Maogg sat at the head of the bed, pulling the Jedi up into his embrace, then wrapped his legs around the naked belly. The doctor applied antiseptic to both nipples, tweaking them into hard nubs. With speed born of long practice, he plunged a sterilized needle through each nipple and swiftly placed the small silver rings, using a heating rod to permanently close the rings. Obi-Wan yelped and tried to jerk away, but Maogg held him close. Moving quickly, the doctor used a bigger needle to open a path through the end of the Jedi’s cock, inserted the large silver ring and sealed it closed. He sprayed both nipples and the cock with more antiseptic and a bit of anesthetic. “There, that should do it.”

The doctor took off the gloves with a snap and threw them in the bag before closing it. “Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“He’ll be tired and sore for a while. Let him sleep the rest of the day.”

“Yes, sir.”

The doctor stepped out of the cell and headed down the corridor with the guards.

Maogg untangled himself from the naked Jedi and laid him back down. Obi-Wan curled up again, whimpering a little, a protective hand over his genitals.

“It hurts, Mazhten,” moaned Obi-Wan.

“I know. You will be sore for a while, but don’t touch.” He covered Obi-Wan with the blanket. “Go back to sleep.”

For a long while the clansman sat beside the apprentice, stroking his covered back.

~ The boy is soft, and has strange ideas, ~ Maogg sighed as he watched the slow breathing of his young charge. ~ He is smart, though, and looks nice. With the proper training, he will be a good addition to the clan. I shall pray again to the Mother to help him. ~

Maogg carefully ran a finger down Obi-Wan’s cheek, then settled down next to him to rest.

 

*********************** **************

 

The wall in front of Obi-Wan slowly drifted into focus as the harsh clang of the lights out bell sounded in the corridor. He blinked his eyes several times as he tried to figure out why the paint in his room had turned from blue to white. Yawning, he started to stretch, but the sudden pain when he moved brought the day’s memories crashing back. With a wordless scream, he tried to retreat, burying his face in the pillow, but the image of two burnt and broken lightsabers was painted inside his eyelids. ~ Qui-Gon ~ was the single thought running mercilessly through his head.

The motion brought Maogg to his feet. He got the bread and cheese he had saved from midday and drew a cup of water. Kneeling beside the bunk, he gently touched the Jedi’s shoulder.

“Wake up. You need to eat.”

“ ‘m not hungry,” was the muffled reply.

“You need to eat to keep up your strength.”

Obi-Wan did not reply, instead trying to bury his face even deeper.

Maogg sighed and set the food aside. He waited until the cell lights were out, the corridor dimmed and the guards had finished their initial round before taking his boots and clothes off and carefully climbing into bed. He felt the young Jedi cringe away from the hand on his hip and heard the muffled moan of pain as he moved.

“Listen to me,” whispered the clansman. “I have to put your medicine in. I am going to use the oil to make it easier for your medicine. I will try not to hurt you. Do you understand?”

There was no reply, but Maogg felt the trembling when he poured a little oil on his finger and carefully massaged it into the area around Obi-Wan’s anus. Even more carefully he dipped the oily digit just barely into the opening.

Obi-Wan jerked away as he felt the invading flesh. “Please, Mazhten, please don’t,” he cried out.

“I’m only going to put your medicine in. You have Maogg’s word,” replied the clansman, continuing the oily massage, but he could feel that the trembling had abated only slightly. He put one hand on the Jedi’s hip as he slowly inserted the suppository, pushing it in as far as he could without inflicting too much pain.

“Finished,” he whispered, slowly stroking the soft flank. “You may stay in bed tonight when I sing. I will pray for the Mother to help heal you.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked bitterly, “so you can do it again sooner?”

“No.” The large hand stilled. “I did not enjoy hurting you, that is not our way. Now you must get strong again.”

“I don’t want to be strong. I hate this place, I hate the bastards that killed my master, and I hate you.” Obi-Wan clutched the pillow to his chest, fists white with pain and anger. “I don’t understand why you keep pretending we’re going to get out of here.” His voice was rising almost hysterically. “Keep your damned gods and your stupid games. We’re going to die in this miserable fucking hole so just leave me alone.” A broken sob. “Please. . .just. . .leave me alone,” he whispered dully.

Maogg gathered the limp body into his arms and held him close. He could feel the pain radiating in waves from the wounded soul and simply held him silently, praying to the Mother to help them both, sending healing thoughts to try to help body and mind. Before the young man could sink too much further into an apathetic stupor, though, he knew he had to speak.

Leaning very close, mouth next to the delicate ear, he whispered, “You are a Jedi.”

There was no reaction, only the susurration of ragged breathing.

“Is this the way of the Jedi, to give up, to let evil win?”

“There’s nothing left to fight for. There is no Force, I’ve lost my master, and this is not living.”

Maogg carefully considered his next words. He was guardian of secrets he had sworn to protect, but he could not let this Jedi give up. “You are not alone. There are people who care for you, who believe the Jedi are honorable. They will help us.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What if I told you that I know your real name?”

The Jedi went completely still. “Even if you did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“If I tell you your name, you must promise to get better, to get strong.”

“It doesn’t matter,” repeated the Jedi despairingly, trying to turn his head away. “We’ll never get out of here.”

“We *will* get out here, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And you know that Master Jinn would not want you to give up like this.”

Obi-Wan twisted around, ignoring the sharp pain in his lower body, and grabbed Maogg by the metal control collar. “How do you know my name,” he whispered fiercely, “and what do you know about Qui-Gon Jinn?”

“I met Master Jinn when he was looking for orphans that were strong with the Mother’s gifts. Our clan gave him one such as he was seeking. He seemed a very honorable warrior, and around the fire at night he spoke fondly of a young warrior named Kenobi.”

“When?” pleaded Obi-Wan desperately. “When did you see him last?”

“He left our camp with another Jedi who came seeking him. I think it was right after you were captured.” He looked down sadly into the hopeful eyes before continuing softly. “I left shortly after that myself for my mission. I am sorry, I did not see him again.”

Obi-Wan released his stranglehold on the clansman’s collar and fell back onto the bed, the flicker of light dying stillborn in his eyes.

Maogg gathered the young man in his arms again. “He was very proud of you. He said that you would be a great Jedi knight some day, that you would help many people.”

“But he’s dead now.”

“If he is, then does his memory, his training, mean so little to you that you would give up, lay down and die?”

“No. . . I loved him. . . .” Obi-Wan swallowed past the lump in his throat. He whispered, “It’s just so hard.”

“All life is hard, but with the Father and Mother’s help, we survive, we live. Continue to serve me, and I will get us both out of here, or we shall die honorably trying.”

“You seem so damned certain, but I don’t know how long I can take it here.”

“There is a plan and we are not alone, but we must wait until the big storms come. Winter comes swift and hard here, but it could be many tens before the right storm comes. I can not tell you more, and have told you more than was allowed. You must trust me, and be strong.”

For several minutes Obi-Wan was still in the clansman’s arms. He finally spoke, resignation in his voice. “Alright, for Qui-Gon’s sake, I will serve you.”

“When the proper time comes, all will be well. You will see,” said Maogg, embracing Obi-Wan as tightly as he dared without hurting him. “You have the word of Maogg of the White Panther clan.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

 

******************** ************************

 

The dawn light revealed a greatly improved Jedi and a very tired clansman. Obi-Wan had had his suspicions for a while about what some of the ‘Mother’s gifts’ really were, and this episode confirmed his belief that Maogg had at least some version of a healing force, although he adamantly refused to discuss it. Obi-Wan was able to get up and walk around in the cold cell that day. Maogg also felt his ward was sufficiently recovered to receive the last ring. The flat ring was placed around the base of Obi-Wan’s cock and snugged up sufficiently that it would prevent ejaculation except when Maogg released it.

That morning started another very long round of monotonous days. Maogg pushed harder than ever in their exercise sessions, and, despite the steadily dropping temperatures, began refusing to allow Obi-Wan to wear his tunic even when they went out to the exercise yard, insisting that the Jedi must learn to tolerate the cold. Of course, Obi-Wan’s new adornments did not go unremarked by either guards or fellow inmates, and after the first time they were taken to the showers on a greentag day it seemed everyone got the word about his southern jewelry and did not hesitate to add more lewd comments. After the initial soreness was gone, though, Obi-Wan was able to ignore the presence of the rings except when Maogg played with them.

Occasionally the sameness of the days would be broken by the departure or arrival of a prisoner. One such incident reinforced both Obi-Wan’s status and his understanding of his owner’s ruthless drive for survival. A handsome, scared-looking young man was brought in one day and put into a four man cell. Within an hour the sounds of fists thudding into flesh were followed by several screams as the prisoner was put into his place by his new owners. The next day was an exercise day, and the four were included in the same group as Maogg and Obi-Wan. Near the end of the period there were still several minutes left after their workout, so Obi-Wan ventured over to the bench where the new prisoner lay huddled on the ground near his cellmates. The new prisoner reminded him of a young apprentice he had known at the Temple, and he felt sorry for him. Keeping a wary eye on the others, the apprentice knelt down and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Obi-Wan quietly asked.

“Thanks, but I don’t think so,” the new prisoner started to answer as he turned over. When he saw who was beside him, though, his eyes hardened and he thrust the apprentice’s hand away. “You’re that fucking Jedi bitch.” He eyed the silver nipple rings gleaming in the pale sunlight. “I heard about you.” He spat in Obi-Wan’s face. “Get the fuck away from me, you piece of shit.”

Before Obi-Wan could reply he found himself face down, his mouth full of grit, blood running from his nose. Maogg hauled him to his knees by his collars and backhanded him again.

On his hands and knees, Obi-Wan shook his head. Behind him he heard laughter from other prisoners. He looked up at the furious clansman standing over him. “I just wanted to help, Mazhten,” he whispered.

Maogg grabbed the apprentice by his collars again, dragged him to his feet and pulled him close. “The other prisoners are no business of yours. All of your effort belongs to me. The rest of them are only good for what I can get from them. They can all die here for all I care.”

Obi-Wan’s protest was cut off by another blow. When they returned to their cell, Maogg assigned him two extra hours of exercises. His lesson learned, Obi-Wan tried to quash any further charitable impulses.

The almost constant cold, humiliation and tedium did little to improve the Jedi’s temper, but Maogg was also beginning to show signs of wear from the long confinement which was so foreign to his nature. The clansman spent more and more time staring out the window and developed a tic in his right cheek. Except for the continuing tutorials, the two men spoke less and less, even under cover of darkness. Obi-Wan found he could no longer bear to look at the blue eyes that reminded him so painfully of his lost master. Maogg’s flourishing friendship with the morning guard, however, did eventually win them an additional blanket in return for a special exhibition of milking the Jedi bitch with Obi-Wan tied spread-eagle on the front bars. By this time the apprentice was past caring about any new humiliations and the blanket was a welcome addition in the freezing night temperatures.

For the most part, the routine changed little. Obi-Wan kept the cell meticulously clean, exercised, practiced his language lessons, and became quite expert at fellatio. Maogg fucked him so often that his ass no longer needed stretching preparation, although they continued liberal applications of oil. During this time they both came to agree on two things: their hatred of the warden and the need to stay together. Maogg despised being manipulated, but was certain his best chance of escape was to stay in the relatively lenient conditions of the end cell. Obi-Wan loathed the sessions with the warden, but had no illusions about how long he would last if he was thrown back among the other prisoners. The Jedi had come to accept his relationship with the clansman as the lesser of two evils; although he despised himself for doing so, he was so starved for any touch of humanity in the brutal environment he often found himself working just as hard to earn the occasional bit of approval or kindness from his owner as he did to avoid punishment. The sexual services he provided for Maogg were simply part of the price he paid for Maogg’s protection; when Maogg also chose to reward him with sexual release he accepted the pleasure as a bitterly won respite from his gray existence.

When the warden began bringing visitors around every six or seven days, the two prisoners developed a little routine for him. As soon as the guards appeared to announce the visit, Obi-Wan would strip and would be kneeling next to Maogg, head down, when the warden arrived. The warden would give his little spiel, which seemed to emphasize his own cleverness and mastery of prisoner psychology more each time, pour some venomous abuse out, spit on Obi-Wan, and watch gleefully as Maogg ‘forced’ the Jedi to crawl forward and kiss the warden’s boots, occasionally adding a loud smack on the bare ass if Obi-Wan was too slow. Obi-Wan would then suck Maogg’s cock for a while until it was good and wet, then Maogg would fuck him long and slow with lots of vocals from both men. The warden would usually finish up by encouraging his visitors to heap their verbal abuse on the ‘Jedi scum’ before they left. Although it was a humiliating experience, especially for Obi-Wan, it was worth it if the warden thought it was his idea and let them stay together. At this point, the longer they were in prison, the more willing Obi-Wan was to put up with almost anything if he believed it would help them eventually escape.

The first snowfall arrived almost three tendays later on a gray afternoon. Obi-Wan decided to hoist himself up and look out the window, something he had not had an opportunity to do in quite a while since Maogg had begun monopolizing the opening. Standing on his bunk, he grabbed the two middle bars and began to pull. He was surprised to find the bars turning in his hands and started to exclaim, but suddenly Maogg was behind him, pushing him hard into the wall, holding him up.

“What’s going on, Mazhten?” hissed Obi-Wan.

“Stay away from the window,” growled Maogg, pulling Obi-Wan away and pushing him down on the other bunk. He silenced the Jedi’s protest with a ferocious kiss, something he seldom liked to do. Finishing the kiss, he groped the semi-naked body, playing with the nipple rings, making sure the camera had a good view. He leaned down and whispered in Obi-Wan’s ears. “The Mother has been helping me to loosen the bars each night. Leave them alone or you will ruin everything.”

Tired of being kept in the dark, Obi-Wan angrily whispered back. “When are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“When the time is right and it is needful.”

“Would you stop giving me that bantha shit! I’m really tired of –“ Obi-Wan stopped abruptly when he felt a cold hand reach inside his pants and grasp his testicles.

“When the time is right,” whispered Maogg slowly, a warning tone in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Mazhten. It’s. . . the waiting is difficult.” He paused, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. “Can’t you tell me about anything at all that is going to happen?” he pleaded.

“If you paid more attention when I sing to the Mother, you might learn something,” growled Maogg. “Now be quiet.”

Maogg flipped him over, pulled his pants off, oiled him, then leisurely fucked him while they waited for the evening meal. To emphasize his displeasure, he stimulated the Jedi’s cock to a full erection, then snugged the cock ring even tighter than usual as he slowly plowed him. Later, lying beside the sated clansman, Obi-Wan silently digested his latest bit of information to try to take his mind off his throbbing cock and the hot semen seeping from his sore ass.

 

******************* ******************

 

Most nights Obi-Wan had simply crouched and shivered on the cold floor during Maogg’s devotions to the Mother, his only intention to endure long enough to scramble back into their warm bed. He had become quite good at tuning out the sounds of pain and passion that always hung in the corridor as well as Maogg’s voice, sometimes not even fully waking during the proceedings. After Maogg’s comment, however, he began to actually listen to what Maogg was singing and tried to translate it into the common language they used together. Putting some of his Jedi training to use, he memorized the passages on several succeeding nights, then analyzed the results during his morning free time.

Puzzling through each of the sessions, he found that the first four minutes or so were exactly the same and seemed to be a set prayer praising the Mother and promising faithful obedience. The last two or three minutes seemed to have variations, however, and he found a variety of requests such as wisdom to succeed, understanding of her guidance and repeated references which seemed to translate as ‘we are ready for your coming’ and ‘we await’ followed by several words he could not yet understand. Remembering how the lyrical tenor seemed ideally suited to carry across the empty miles surrounding the prison, he began to realize that it would be quite possible to insert coded messages in the nightly devotions and wondered if there was really anyone out there to hear the words.

A light but steady snowfall began the next day. That night, Obi-Wan was again listening carefully and was startled to hear what seemed to be an answer to Maogg’s song. A high keening wail drifted across the countryside, carrying on for several minutes after Maogg had stopped.

A guard had lingered outside their cell to listen. Obi-Wan heard him muttering as he left, “Shit, the fuckin’ sherdons are already down from the mountains. Must be shapin’ for a hard winter.”

Thinking back to his mission research, an event that seemed a lifetime ago, Obi-Wan remembered that sherdons were fierce canid predators that ran in packs in the high mountains until the weather drove them to lower climes. As they climbed back into bed, he noticed that Maogg seemed to be more restless than usual. He decided to take a chance on the clansman’s communicativeness.

“Mazhten, may I ask a question?” asked Obi-Wan quietly.

An affirmative grunt was the response.

“That wasn’t really a sherdon, was it?”

There was a very long silence before Maogg moved his mouth next to the Jedi’s ear. “No.”

For the first time in months, Obi-Wan allowed himself a small flicker of hope that he might actually get out of this awful place.

 

******************** *****************

 

The light snow continued on and off for the next two days; every night there was an answering chorus of sherdon howls after Maogg’s songs to the Mother. During lulls in the snow, groups of high security prisoners were allowed out in the exercise yard for an hour. Obi-Wan was glad that Maogg finally allowed him to wear his tunic when they went out, but he noticed that as they ran around the slippery perimeter the clansman seemed to be more preoccupied than usual with studying the watchtowers and outer walls. Late afternoon of the third day the weather took a drastic turn for the worse; snow began pouring down steadily in a moaning wind. Soon visibility outside was reduced to a few feet. At the evening meal both prisoners and guards were on edge. Maogg took Obi-Wan straight to bed at lights out without requiring any service. They lay quietly for a while until the guards had finished their initial round.

Putting one hand over Obi-Wan’s mouth, Maogg leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Be silent and listen.” Obi-Wan nodded, so Maogg removed his hand before continuing. “The storm will run for at least three days. Tonight we leave so we will have maximum cover for the escape. There will be diversions at the other end of the prison. When you hear the fire alarms, begin tearing the blankets and sheets and tie them into a rope. I will be removing the bars. We will go out the window on the rope and drop the last several feet. In the maintenance building we will get tools and uniforms. After we remove the control collars, we are going to the lower level to retrieve another prisoner. When we have him, we are going to the outer wall. My people will open the wall from outside. We will leave with the other prisoner while other groups provide more diversions. Once we are outside we will go cross-country to rejoin my clan.”

Obi-Wan avidly absorbed the information he had wanted for so long. When he started to digest it, however, he caught the added complication. “Are you crazy?” he whispered urgently. “It’s going to be difficult enough just to get us out! How in the Force are we supposed to snatch another prisoner and take him with us?”

“The other prisoner is the reason I am in here. I volunteered to get him out; being put in here with you was a gift from the Mother, so we changed the plan. If you want out, you will help me get the other prisoner.” Maogg jabbed a finger in Obi-Wan’s chest. “I thought Jedi were supposed to help others,” he growled, a hint of contempt coloring his voice.

There was a long silence

“You’re all a bunch of crazy Sithspawn, you know,” Obi-Wan finally whispered resignedly. He sighed heavily. “Alright, I’ll do whatever we have to do to get out of this fucking hole. Your friend goes with us.”

A few hours later the harsh bell in the corridor began ringing in spaced triplets as the lights came up. All along the corridor prisoners began yelling and screaming as the guards ran out the door. “Fire! Fire!” “Let us out!” “Get us the fuck out!”

Both men scrambled out of bed and pulled on their clothes. Maogg jumped up on the other bunk and began ripping out the weakened bars while Obi-Wan quickly tore blankets and sheets into long strips. With the bars gone, Maogg helped finish the rope and tied it off to the one bar he had left in place. Within minutes both men had squeezed out the window, let themselves down and were hugging the wall in the driving snow as they felt their way along to the maintenance building.

Obi-Wan was too hyped to notice the cold as they broke into the other building by the simple expedient of Maogg kicking in the door. Maogg swiftly oriented himself, then turned to the right and searched along a row of metal lockers until he found one with dark tape along the top edge. He ripped off the flimsy lock and forced the door open. Inside were heavy duty cutters; grabbing the tool he worked on Obi-Wan’s control collar, after three tries finally severing it. Obi-Wan then took the cutters and sawed away at the clansman’s collar. His heart raced as the minutes passed too swiftly. The collar was finally mangled enough that Maogg was able to pull it off, gashing his neck in the process. Inside the locker were uniforms that could pass as a guard’s outfit and they pulled them on over their prison clothes. Maogg grabbed a small ring of keys and a black box, then urged them back out into the storm.

As they worked their way back along the wall, more alarms began going off from a different direction. At the ground level door near the exercise yard, Maogg inserted a key while holding the black box over the electronic print block. When he pressed a button on the box, there was a bright flash and the smell of burnt panels. The door swung open to reveal a surprised guard. Obi-Wan knocked him out while Maogg opened the inner door. They pulled the guard’s key ring, unlocked the doors at the end of a short corridor and headed down a ramp. The duo knocked out two more guards who were unable to react defensively when the control rods failed to have any effect, again pulling their key rings and also their neuron whips. The shrill fire alarms still filled the air. The two men ran down another long corridor of frenzied prisoners, stopping finally near an end cell. Maogg ran through a series of keys until he found one that unlocked the cell. The prisoner inside had not stirred despite the tremendous racket.

Maogg stepped inside and began wrapping the prisoner in his blankets while Obi-Wan kept watch with both whips. Having secured their objective, they started back down the corridor. The cameras and internal communication must have still been working properly; the next guards they encountered came straight at them with their neuron whips instead of trying the control rods. Obi-Wan took out one with a flying kick and the other with the whip, leaving him lying on the ground screaming. They headed back up the ramp to the ground level, but ran into a group of guards at the doorway. Maogg put down his burden; staying back to back they fought savagely, giving no quarter until they had downed the opposition. The clansman once more picked up the comatose prisoner and they made it out of the building into the storm.

They felt their way along the outside of the exercise yard until they reached the electrified wire fence. Maogg handed his burden to Obi-Wan, then stood for several moments as if gathering himself. He took two neuron whips, activated them at full power, and swiftly slashed through several wires, which spat and sparkled as they shorted out under the extra power surge from the whips. Maogg shook himself, then led his companion on toward the outer wall. It was impossible to see more than a foot in front of them, but Obi-Wan thought he recognized the jutting brick surface as being directly underneath one of the towers where it would be impossible for the guards to fire on them, even with heat seekers, without leaning out dangerously from the tower. Obi-Wan heard a new type of alarm begin keening a high pitched wail.

“What next?” Obi-Wan shouted, leaning in close.

“They are cutting in from the other side,” Maogg shouted back.

“What’s that other alarm?”

Maogg looked at him for a moment, then shouted back, “Force monitors.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he had heard right. Force monitors? A wild hope sprang up in his breast; could it possibly be?

A block of bricks came tumbling down, followed by the sweeping strokes of a lightsaber enlarging the hole. Obi-Wan started forward eagerly. It was definitely a lightsaber; he’d recognize that sound anywhere. Coming closer, he briefly stopped in dismay, an impossible hope dashed. It was a lightsaber, a brilliant blue-white blaze in the swirling snow. He had to admit it was a welcome sight even if it wasn’t the green blade he had dreamed of. Obi-Wan swallowed his disappointment as they quickly moved into the hole; at least the Jedi had sent someone for him and he had not been totally abandoned.

Outside the wall the escapees were met by a group of six people, all heavily clothed and cloaked against the weather. Except for the lightsaber the Jedi was indistinguishable from the rest, but he stood apart, eyes closed, facing the watchtower. The extra prisoner was quickly wrapped in layer after layer of blankets and furs, then carefully secured in a traveling stretcher with straps at each end for carrying. Another clansman pulled two sets of heavy clothing and boots from a hide bag and thrust them at Maogg and Obi-Wan. Suddenly there was a series of explosions from the five watchtowers along this wall, followed rapidly by more explosions inside the prison. The Jedi stumbled and was caught by a companion; Obi-Wan knew he must have used a great deal of Force energy to cause that many diversions. He started to go to the Jedi but was roughly pulled back by Maogg.

“We go now,” he shouted, urging the young man to finish pulling on his boots and gloves. The group split into two teams of four; the team with the Jedi headed off rapidly into the storm before Obi-Wan could react. In the remaining group, Obi-Wan was pushed into position at the back of the stretcher and the straps were fastened around his shoulders. Maogg took the front of the rack, and the newcomers took up positions at front and rear. They headed off into the night at a quick trot.

 

****************** ******************

 

Over the next few days Obi-Wan gained a thorough understanding of why Maogg had constantly pushed him so hard to stay in top physical shape and get hardened to the cold. They slogged steadily through the storm, changing off on the stretcher every few hours, chewing on dried meat for sustenance. There was a brief stop about twenty hours in when they reached the scrub forest. The stop was primarily for the benefit of the fifth member of the group; they unwrapped him and massaged his limbs, then rewrapped him. Obi-Wan caught a few glimpses of a young man, dirty brown hair framing a pale, thin face. The other members took advantage of the stop to relieve themselves, drink some water, and redistribute their scant supplies.

Starting off again, they pushed steadily for another twenty four hours, across valleys, streams, forests and rocks. Obi-Wan had long since lost any sense of direction in the snow as they turned, twisted and doubled back to throw off any pursuit; the only thing that was clear was that they were going steadily higher up into the foothills he had seen from the cell. At their next stop they lit a tiny fire and heated soup. The man in the stretcher seemed to be finally gaining consciousness and they were able to get some hot soup into him. Obi-Wan gathered from the limited conversation that he was somebody important and had probably been heavily drugged while in the prison. They pushed on again; Obi-Wan forced himself to keep up, one step at time, determined not to be left behind or slow the group down.

On the third day they reached a cave high up in the hills and rendezvoused with another team on foot as well as two others who were already there with a group of ghiphnen, sturdy four legged riding beasts. Another brief stop for more hot soup, then everyone was mounted, the stretcher was slung between two shaggy ghiphnen, and off they went. The storm finally died down on the fourth day, but they traveled on for six more, higher into the mountains, through a pass, then far down the other side to a protected valley lined with caves and thick-walled long houses. Obi-Wan was exhausted and had only brief memories of arriving, falling off the ghiphnen, and being bundled off to a warm spring for a thorough washing.

 

****************** ******************

 

Obi-Wan stretched extravagantly in the warm bed, soft blankets pleasant against his naked skin. The light was dim and there was a light smoky odor in the air. He stretched again, content to bask in the warmth as his mind slowly tried to wrap itself around the puzzle of where he was.

“Good morning,” came a low rumble as the figure beside him propped its head up on one hand. Maogg grinned at him lazily.

“Good morning, Mazhten,” Obi-Wan said, putting his hands behind his head. “May I ask where we are?”

“We are in the White Panther winter camp,” replied Maogg. “You are safe from the southerners.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out very slowly as a smile lit up his face. ~ Thank the Force, ~ he thought dreamily. The apprentice rested quietly for several moments, savoring the feeling of freedom.

“Thank you for getting me out of the prison,” Obi-Wan said as he finally looked around with more interest. They seemed to be in a partitioned area consisting of the bed, several shelves on the back wall filled mostly with tools, weapons, clothes, and personal sundries, and a bench running the length of the opposite wall. Above the bench hung a superbly finished short sword, a heavy scabbard of polished dark wood, an unstrung bow and a fringed hide quiver covered in an exquisite pattern of colored beads. The fourth wall was a heavy blanket on rings stretched across the opening. “I suppose I should also be thanking several others of your clan as well.”

“You are welcome. You will have an opportunity to meet the other clan members this evening. We are having a clan gathering to recognize those who helped in the rescue.”

At that point Obi-Wan’s bladder made an urgent request for attention. Seeing the expression on the Jedi’s face, Maogg smiled again and suggested it was time they both arose. He provided a pair of soft leather pants and boots for the young man, then pulled back the curtain that opened to the central common area. At the end of the building two rooms had been set aside for men and women with quite efficient indoor plumbing. After they had taken care of their immediate need, Maogg showed his charge around the empty common area, explaining briefly that most of the adults were out working while youngsters were in schooling. Partitioned areas of various sizes lined both long walls. One end of the building was the sanitary facilities and the other end was cooking facilities. Maogg got them bowls of thick porridge from a large pot and they sat at one of the tables in the center to eat. While they ate, Maogg talked about more of the clan history and how they lived, expanding on the lessons he had given in prison. Maogg started to explain more about the customs related to ownership; it was much more complex than Obi-Wan had originally understood. Obi-Wan was struggling to understand the complicated rules when two newcomers entered the building.

Maogg’s face lit up in a huge smile as he stood up. He spared a glance for his companion. “Stand up and be silent until you are recognized,” Maogg said quietly before leaving the table.

Obi-Wan stood and watched quietly as Maogg exchanged hugs and excited greetings first with an elderly, silver haired woman, then with a pale young man. They spoke too quickly for the apprentice to follow although Obi-Wan got the general impression that they were related. Finally they slowed down and walked back to the table.

“Grandmother, Laregg, this is the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Maogg said in the common tongue, pointing at the apprentice. “This is my grandmother, Nimaral, and my cousin, Laregg.”

Obi-Wan bowed and attempted a reply in the clan’s language. “I am very pleased to meet you. . .,” he paused as he realized he wasn’t sure of the appropriate title, “uh, grandmother of Maogg?”

“Nimaral is fine, young one,” she said with a laugh. “Titles are of no interest to me at my age.”

Obi-Wan bowed again. He noticed the strong family resemblance; tall, bright blue eyes, long limbs and square faces. Looking closer, he thought he recognized the young man. “Laregg? Weren’t you at the prison?”

“You have a good memory,” Laregg replied with a smile. “Yes, I was, and you have my thanks for helping me to get out of that terrible place.” He turned to Maogg. “And you too, of course, old friend. I am in your debt.”

Maogg laughed slyly as he dug an elbow into the young man’s ribs. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your father will find a suitable reward.” At Obi-Wan’s puzzled look, the clansman continued. “Laregg is too modest to mention it himself, but his father is Luthej, clan chief, son of Nimaral and Janek. Laregg’s rescue was the reason I went into the prison.” He hugged the young man and ruffled his hair. “The rescue is what we all worked on and we are all happy to have him back.” Laregg blushed as he weakly protested.

Nimaral shepherded them back to the table. “Sit, sit. You two should finish eating,” she said with a mild glare at the grinning Maogg. “What are you planning to do today, Masha?”

Maogg grimaced at the diminutive while Laregg grinned. “I thought I would take Obi-Wan around the camp and then, of course, to the gathering tonight. He still has much to learn of our ways.”

“Very much to learn, I suspect, if you were the teacher,” Nimaral said. She waved aside the mumbled protest. “You were always better at doing than telling. The poor boy is probably more confused than enlightened.” She ignored Laregg’s snicker as she turned to Obi-Wan. “What nonsense has my geph-footed clod of a grandson been filling you with today?”

“Maogg was explaining about the different relationships and types of ownerships, about masters, and, uh, ranshurr,” Obi-Wan said. He looked hesitantly at the clansman before continuing. “It does seem awfully confusing though.”

“I suppose to an outsider it might appear so,” said the matriarch thoughtfully. She leaned over the table. “You know of the Mother and Father?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Maogg explained many of the customs and teachings. The clan is very important if I understood correctly?”

“Yes, the most basic teaching of the Mother is that the clan is more important than any one person; everyone must serve and contribute to the best of their ability. The young are nurtured and taught, the old and infirm are cared for. There are family relationships and there are many types of owning relationships. The council rules the clan.”

“Your council sounds very similar to our Jedi Council, as does your system of masters and apprentices,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully.

“Again you are correct, although our council members are partly hereditary and partly elected. We rely more on our elders to guide the clan. Our masters are very skilled or learned in one or more areas and our seniors are like your Jedi rank of knight. Our young people serve and learn as do your apprentices. A person in service is a ranshurr, and the person they are serving is their mazhten, regardless of whatever other ranks or seniority they may hold.”

“But you seem to have a lot of rules about how all this works,” Obi-Wan said, “and Jedi don’t own each other.”

“You must remember that we all belong to the Mother and Father, and to the clan. Ownership is really just a dedication to the concept of obedience and service on the part of the owned and responsibility for care and teaching on the part of the owner.” Nimoral folded graceful hands on the table. “Some of the traditions are quite simple. Young people work at basic tasks such as herding or cleaning when they are not in schooling. Before they turn eighteen they have the option of offering themselves to a master or senior they particularly admire or want to learn from, even if they are in a different clan. At eighteen, if they are still uncommitted, they are given to a master or senior to serve for a term of at least three years; if they object to the assignment they can challenge but few do. The oldest son in a family must work at some skill but is exempt from ranshurr if he wishes; most prefer to learn from older family members.”

“But I had the impression that you fought for ownership?” Obi-Wan said, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead as he finished his breakfast.

Nimaral laughed, a light pleasant chuckle. “Men are like the Father Sun, brave and blustery. They do challenge and fight for many things, but women are usually content to follow the Mother’s ways. Women are also masters of many crafts and some are even hunters or warriors, but most are more interested in teaching and in the welfare of the clan.” She leaned forward. “Do not mistake quiet for meekness, young Jedi. Life is hard, and our women are tough. They enforce obedience and service just as quickly as the loudest warrior.”

“And swing a belt just as hard,” interjected Maogg with a mock shudder. Laregg grinned in agreement.

Pointedly ignoring the two grinning men, Nimaral continued. “Family is also very important. After they turn twenty-one young men and women are eligible to marry, either within or outside the clan. If they marry, they can either leave their mazhten or continue as part of their owner’s family if it is mutually agreeable. Once they have sufficient years and skill, they can be adjudged a senior and be assigned an apprentice of their own. Masters and seniors can have as many apprentices as they can support and teach. Youngsters and oldsters without family or masters live together and serve the clan under the guidance of clan elders.”

“I don’t fit into any of those situations. I belong to the Jedi, not to anyone on this planet.”

“All clans recognize that young unassigned or unmarried males, especially those caught on raids or away from their clans without protection of a trade peace, may be challenged by masters or seniors.” She reached over and patted the Jedi’s hand. “In the prison you had no clan. Therefore, when you lost in combat to Maogg, you became his property.”

“We’re not in prison any more,” Obi-Wan said stubbornly. “I want to go home. My master may be dead, but it is my duty to return to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.”

“You wear the marks of Maogg,” Nimaral said quietly.

“But, I am a Jedi –“

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she interrupted firmly, “this is your home and White Panther is now your clan. You submitted to Maogg and agreed to serve him; therefore you are ranshurr. You may discuss it further with your fellow Jedi when he returns, but he understands our customs. We have known of the Jedi for many lifetimes, and always they have been honorable warriors. I expect you to do your duty also, young Jedi. You will serve and Maogg will take care of you. There is nothing further to talk about.” Nimaral stood up, smiling to take some of the sting out of her words. She nodded to her kinsmen. “I shall see you at the gathering tonight.”

All three men automatically stood up as Nimaral turned away and left. Obi-Wan stood staring blankly after her, shoulders slumped, hands hanging loosely at his side.

~ Force, I thought everything would be fine if I could get out of that prison. ~ Obi-Wan closed his eyes, shook his head slightly. ~ I can’t believe this is really happening. ~

A heavy clout on the shoulder jarred the young Jedi from his thoughts.

“Come,” growled Maogg as he threw a cloak at the apprentice. “We will visit the camp.” He and Laregg headed for the door without looking back.

Obi-Wan stared after him, eyes hard, jaw clenching. ~ I should just tell the son of a bantha to go to hell, but then he’d probably beat me just to remind me he can do it. ~ He sighed. ~ Since I’m here, I suppose I should find out as much as I can about this place. ~ Obi-Wan wrapped the cloak around himself and started after the two clansmen. ~ Nimaral did say the other Jedi would be back tonight and I could talk to him. Maybe he can get this ranshurr thing straightened out. ~ Cheered a little by that thought, he hurried to catch up.

Their first stop was a plateau halfway up the side of a high hill which gave them an excellent view of the secluded valley. The far side of the long basin was heavily forested as were the hills immediately surrounding them. The mountains and taller hills behind them were covered in snow, but Maogg explained that this low down they would not expect heavy snow for another two or three tendays, and that it normally lasted only a few months. The floor was mostly tall grass, still green despite the lateness of the season. Obi-Wan saw several large corrals, a half dozen long buildings similar to the one in which he had awakened, a few smaller buildings and one long, low building which Maogg indicated was the gathering house. The buildings were connected by well worn paths with overhead cover. Laregg pointed out the pass at the far end of the valley; the herds of ghiphnen would be brought up from lower pastures later that day. Each tenday the ghiphnen, who provided meat, milk, hides, fur and riding animals, were rotated back to the valley for a few days. While assembled in the valley and corrals, they could be checked for health, a few slaughtered for fresh meat, and their dung collected for additional fuel.

Maogg and Laregg took Obi-Wan on a tour of the buildings, the outer corrals, and an extensive cave system with warm springs for bathing, caves for storage and for livestock. Further back in the caves were two very cold springs fed by an underground river which provided drinking and cooking water. Obi-Wan was struck by the mix of modern efficiencies such as indoor plumbing and solar lighting with the prevalence of low technology such as leather clothing, hand woven blankets, edged weapons and open fires for cooking. Maogg just shrugged and said they used what suited the Mother and allowed them to live a lifestyle close to nature but still protect themselves from predators human and animal. Many of the people they saw during the day worked shirtless, enjoying the relatively benign weather; most had tattoos and many also had piercings of various sorts. As midday approached, they were touring a series of caves set up as workshops for many different crafts such as weaving, sewing, carving, leatherworking and fine jewelry. In between Maogg’s explanations and chats with friends, Laregg spent time asking questions about the Jedi and his life on Coruscant. Obi-Wan quickly found himself developing a liking for the quiet young clansman.

“Good day, Laregg, Maogg,” called a brawny elder as the visitors entered a large workplace set up as a smithy. There were five different fires of various sizes which were vented to the outside and several work tables, anvils and a large assortment of tools. The tall man wiped the sweat from his face, then retied the cloth that held his long silver hair out of the way. Red stone studs gleamed in both ears. “It is good to have both of you back.”

“Good day, Futroj,” Maogg said. “It is very good to be back.” He patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder proudly. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, my Jedi. He helped us to get out of prison.” He nodded at the elder and began introductions. “Futroj is the senior Master Smith, Vanok is a Master Smith, Goniv and Velaj are senior Smiths.” Maogg waved his hand vaguely at several younger men and a young woman. “Those are the ranshurr who work for the different smiths.”

Obi-Wan bowed to the various men as he was introduced. Looking at the neatly hung tools, he turned to Maogg. “Mazhten, there are some very good cutting tools here. Can we take this collar off?”

Futroj came close, leaning down to finger the Force inhibitor. “Hmmm, odd sort of metal there, but we should be able to get it off if you want,” he said.

“It is not a normal collar,” Maogg said, shaking his head. “The other Jedi left word that removing this kind of collar after so long a time may not be safe without a special Jedi healer present. He said the sudden return to the Mother’s presence can cause mind sickness.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “Do you know of such things?”

Although disappointed, Obi-Wan had to admit it was possible. “I have heard of cases of what our healers call psychic shock among recovered hostages and prisoners who had had Force dampeners on for a long time.”

“Best to leave it on for now, I think,” Maogg said. “Perhaps we can ask the Jedi about it when he returns.”

“Yes, Mazhten,” Obi-Wan replied, resigned to patience for the moment. “You know, I have heard several people refer to the other Jedi, but no one ever says his name. Surely someone here can tell me who he is?”

“I asked the same question,” Laregg said with a smile, “but he said there are evil people seeking him, and he asked that his name not be used and his presence not be discussed.”

“Aye, he did, and the council agreed to honor the request,” Futroj said with a shrug. “It was the least we could do for his help.” He smiled as two young men came in, one balancing a large pot and the other carrying a large basket. “Would you like to join us for midmeal?”

“Thank you,” Maogg said. “Obi-Wan, you will help the other ranshurr, then you may eat with them.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

Obi-Wan helped a young man and the young woman clear off a worktable, carefully removing several works in progress. They set the table, then served bowls of soup, sandwiches and flagons of cool water to the Masters and Seniors. Most of the ranshurr were then allowed to get food and sit at another table.

“Hi,” said a tall, broad shouldered young man with gold nipple rings and a collar of gold and silver chain links. “Are you really a Jedi?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied around mouthfuls of soup. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I have been a Jedi most of my life.”

“I’m Bavod. I’ve belonged to Futroj since I was seventeen.” He pointed proudly to a tattoo of a stylized knife on his right shoulder. “Since my twenty-second birthday I have been allowed to make basic tools on my own.”

Another of the young men started to reply when they were interrupted by a flash at a small fire where another ranshurr was still working. Senior Smith Goniv cursed and hurried over to push the young man away. He inspected a crooked piece of cooling iron, cursed again, rapidly pointed out several faults in the piece, then disgustedly threw the ruined piece on a rework pile. The young man knelt as Goniv took off his leather belt, then rapidly administered a dozen lashes. Goniv returned to the work table, dragging the other by his iron collar. The surly young man knelt again as the smith opened his pants and pulled his penis out before sitting down. Everyone continued eating unconcernedly as Goniv was serviced by the youth kneeling between his legs.

“Looks like Kelvat is only getting liquid lunch today,” snickered Bavod.

“Does this sort of thing happen often?” Obi-Wan asked, uncomfortable at the public display and some of the memories it brought back.

“Kelvat is lazy and doesn’t pay attention to his work. He deserves it,” said the young woman quietly. “My name is Muleesa, by the way. I also belong to Master Futroj.” She looked fondly toward the other table. “He says if I work hard I will be good enough to test for first level in another year,” she added proudly.

“Pleased to meet you,” Obi-Wan replied. “Actually, though, doesn’t any of this bother you? I mean the whole idea of being owned, of being punished and having sex in public.”

“What a strange idea!” Bavod exclaimed. The others nodded in agreement. “We all belong to the Mother and nothing is more important than the clan. We all serve the clan, it is our duty to also serve as ranshurr. It is the mazhten’s duty to teach and to discipline.” He shrugged. “Sex is just one of the ranshurr’s duties, either with your mazhten or for mazhten to trade. It doesn’t matter if you like it or not.”

“But out in the open? Whenever they want? With whomever they tell you to?” Horror at the thought of being whored out made his stomach tighten.

“Of course,” Bavod said with a bewildered expression. “I like being taken by Mazhten, especially when he is in a good mood, but he has three ranshurr and a wife so I don’t get to do it as often as I would like.” His face brightened a little. “He does sometimes trade us out, though, and if we’ve been good, Mazhten Futroj lets his ranshurr have sex with other ranshurr, especially for festivals and trade fairs, so it’s not so bad. I thought Jedi had their own mazhten? Don’t they let you have sex?”

“We have masters, but they never require sex from their apprentices. Those who are of age can have sex with other apprentices if they wish to.” Obi-Wan looked around the group. “But nobody here minds being forced to provide sexual services?”

“Well, I suppose Patob minds the sex, but that’s because he’s in looovve,” Muleesa teased.

A gangly young man with curly brown hair blushed bright scarlet. “That doesn’t mean I shirk my duties. Besides, Mazhten Vanok has already said he would give his blessing for me to court her at the next spring trading with the Red Sherdon clan,” he said with quiet dignity before turning his attention back to his soup.

After general exclaiming and wonder about Jedi sex habits, the conversation turned more general as the two youngest ranshurr were called over to replenish the food and drink at the other table. Mostly Bavod talked about his plans for becoming a master smith, disclosing that Futroj had agreed to allow him to stay on as ranshurr until he could pass the tests to become a senior smith. Muleesa showed off a new set of woven silver and copper nipple rings Master Futroj had given her for her recent birthday. Several of the young men then offered to display the rings in their penises, but Obi-Wan politely declined, much to their puzzlement. After the meal was finished it was almost time for high sun, so the ranshurr cleaned up and everyone headed outside except for one ranshurr whose turn it was to watch the fires.

Clan members of all ages gathered in the grass outside the communal buildings, forming a loose circle. Clan elders moved inside the circle. When the sun reached its highest point, everyone went to one knee. For several minutes the elders led a chant and response in homage to Father Sun. Obi-Wan knelt respectfully, wedged between Maogg and Laregg, as the group continued into the low, sing song chants that he remembered from Maogg’s prayers in the prisons. They sang of thanks for the Father’s gifts, sang of strength, the hunt, and battle. Swept up in the group song, Obi-Wan was surprised when he realized that almost half an hour had passed without him noticing before the group switched to silent individual prayers. They then began dispersing to return to work.

Stretching after the devotions, Obi-Wan noticed Nimaral and another woman heading slowly toward them. Nimaral’s companion had waist-length white hair, her weathered face heavily lined but light blue eyes still clear and bright.

“Laregg,” called Nimaral quietly.

The three men waited respectfully.

“Nimaral, Healer Sorola.” Laregg nodded in acknowledgement of the two women, a wary expression on his face.

“Take your shirt off,” said the healer brusquely.

“I feel fine,” Laregg protested.

Both women glared fiercely until the young clansman hastily pulled off his shirt and stood meekly while the healer poked, prodded and hmmm’d. Obi-Wan had to stifle a sympathetic smile at the familiar routine.

“Well, you’re not doing too badly,” the healer finally said grudgingly. “Those were powerful drugs they used on you, though, and you are not to overexert yourself.”

“Yes, Healer Sorola.”

The old woman glanced up sharply, not trusting the mild tone. “That includes not overdoing it when the herds come in, and only two dances tonight,” she said firmly.

“But that’s. . . .“ Laregg’s protest died under another combined glare. “Yes, Healer Sorola,” he sighed.

As the two women walked away, Laregg stood muttering under his breath.

Nimaral paused and looked back. “You’re not too big to take a belt to, young man.”

“Yes, grandmother,” said Laregg, his face flushing.

Waiting until the women were out of sight, Obi-Wan grinned and Maogg laughed and clapped his cousin on the back. “I imagine healers and women are the same everywhere, eh little Jedi?” asked Maogg with another laugh as he dug an elbow into the apprentice’s side.

“Yes, Mazhten, especially the healers,” Obi-Wan answered, still grinning.

“Hmmpph,” grunted Laregg.

“Come on,” Maogg said, still smiling as he pulled Obi-Wan away, “he’ll get over it.”

The big clansman took his ranshurr back to his quarters to explain some of his duties and find a full set of clothing for him. The annoyed Laregg trailed behind but soon regained his good humor. An hour later they went back out after a young boy dashed through the building announcing the arrival of the herds. For the rest of the afternoon they helped the older teens and unoccupied seniors as they joined some thirty mounted herders in slowly sorting out the various ghiphnen into the proper corrals.

By early evening Obi-Wan was more than ready to head to the main assembly hall for the ceremony and meal, hungry both for food and a chance to meet the mysterious missing Jedi. After they entered the hall, they set aside their cloaks and took a seat on one of the long benches in front. When the hall was full, the clan chief stood up and led everyone in prayers of thanks to the Father and Mother, with lots of effusive praise in particular for the Mother and her help in the success of the mission. The chief then presented his rescued son to the assemblage, praising him for risking his life in rescuing several other people. Obi-Wan was not quite certain of the translation, but it seemed that children were involved somehow and it was during the rescue that Laregg was captured after he volunteered to serve as the rear guard. The next stage of the ceremonies involved recognizing, one at a time, each person who had helped in Laregg’s recovery. The chief started with praise for the unnamed but undoubtedly valiant inside sources at the prison, then worked his way up through each person who was involved in each stage of the preparation and actual rescue. By the time they got to the people who had actually been on the raid, Obi-Wan’s patience was wearing thin and he shifted impatiently, his empty stomach grumbling. Maogg glared at him threateningly.

Maogg was the last clansman to be called forward and there was still no sign of the other Jedi. Maogg brought Obi-Wan with him to the center of the hall and they bowed respectfully to the chief.

The chief raised his arms as he spoke. “I call upon you, the people of the White Panther clan, to honor this man whom the Mother has chosen for her favors. Maogg, kinsman to our son, a mighty hunter, and a valiant warrior, volunteered to go into the darkness where so many people of the clans have dwindled and died, of his own free will to leave the sight of both Father and Mother and strive in the blackness to rescue our son Laregg. This thing he has done, our son has been restored, and we will sing praise to the name of Maogg.”

Maogg knelt humbly before the chief, pulling Obi-Wan down also, as the group chanted joyously of sacrifice rewarded, of bravery and of victory. When they were finished the two men stood up again.

“For his actions in rescuing our son, Maogg shall have first choice of the spring foals, a place of honor at the feast tables, and first choice of trade goods in the spring.” There was loud cheering as Maogg bowed again. The chief raised his arms again for silence. “There is another thing of which we must also speak. As most of you know, many moons ago we had visitors, strong and honorable warriors of the clan Jedi. They had not our ways, yet were strong with the Mother’s gifts, which they call the Force, and sought orphans who were also strong in Her gifts in order to train them. We freely gave such a child to the Jedi when they visited, and the Jedi also took children from the southerners, children who otherwise would be denied the light of the Mother’s ways. This was a difficult and dangerous thing to do and our council applauded their courage. A young Jedi was captured on this mission, and was sent to the darkness of the prison. Life was hard for him, for the southerners hate the Jedi far more than they do any clan and deprived him of the Mother’s gifts. The Mother intervened, however, and brought our two causes together; our clansman Maogg was put in the same cell as the Jedi. This young Jedi was a formidable warrior but Maogg was able to best him and claimed him; together they sustained each other in the darkness. In the fullness of time, the young Jedi returned the favor of the Mother and played an important role inside the prison in directly rescuing our son and bringing him out of the darkness. My people, let us sing praise to the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi of the clan Jedi.”

The two men knelt as the group chanted again. Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder what else they could possibly have to talk about and whether or not the elusive other Jedi was in fact going to appear. He looked around as they stood up but could see only clan members.

Once the room was silent, the chief began again. “There is one more person we must honor this night. A wise and valiant warrior, stronger in the Mother’s gifts than any I have ever seen, and a very honorable man. A Jedi Master who came to us from the stars, whose mission became joined to ours, who helped us these many moons, and who used his gifts to make the rescue possible on that wonderful night. Please come forward, Master Jedi, to receive our gratitude.”

A figure detached itself from the deep shadows at the far end of the room and slowly glided forward into the light. Tall, with face hidden in the hood of his cloak, he moved with uncanny, silent grace, stopping in front of the king, near the other two honorees. Obi-Wan’s stomach was trying to climb up his throat as all sorts of wild hopes dashed through his head like a herd of stampeding ghiphnen. His eyes were fixed on the hood as hands peeking from the deep sleeves slowly rose, grasped the sides of the hood, then suddenly drew it back.

~ Qui-Gon! You’re alive! ~ Obi-Wan stood transfixed, barely breathing, afraid to move in case it was just a dream brought on by wishful thinking. The tall figure looked straight ahead at the chief, not even a furtive glance at anything else.

“My people, I present the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Let us sing praise to his name.”

Qui-Gon knelt as the group began another round of heartfelt chanting. As the songs ended, he stood up, still staring only at the chief.

Obi-Wan could not stand still or be silent any longer. With a joyous cry of “Master!”, he started forward, but was stopped abruptly by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looked back incredulously, then started to snarl.

“Padawan,” came the softly spoken command.

Responding instantly to his years of training, Obi-Wan fell silent, then sank to his knees. “Master, it is me, Obi-Wan. We can go home now.”

The Master finally turned, two quick steps bringing him close. The blue eyes were clouded with pain, the face sad, as Qui-Gon answered. “No.”

The room fell totally silent as the stunned apprentice rocked back on his heels. Hurt and bewilderment spun the gray eyes to almost black. “Master, please. . .I don’t understand.”

Qui-Gon took a deep breath as he settled his clenched hands back into the sleeves of his robes. “Padawan, when you were first captured, I tried to rescue you, but was trapped by the police when I tripped their Force monitors. I barely escaped into the river and was saved by clansmen from White Panther. As I recovered, we found that we both had people in prison that we wanted out, and I agreed to work with them. It was the will of the Force that Maogg ended up in your cell due to the warden’s scheming.” He paused, looked down for a moment. “Obi-Wan, if there had been any way for me to get into the prison myself and get you out, I would have done so, but we found out they had placed Force monitors on the prison perimeters, monitors specifically tuned to detect Jedi use of the Force.”

“Yes, Master, I think I understand that,” said Obi-Wan uncertainly, a quaver in his voice. “But that’s over. I’m here, we’re free. Why can’t we go home?”

Qui-Gon shifted uncomfortably as the apprentice waited for an answer. He looked around the room, worrying at his lower lip, before letting his gaze return to Obi-Wan. His breathing was shallow, his face uncharacteristically pale.

“I agreed to help with the rescue in return for the clan’s help in protecting you and freeing you. If Maogg had not been put in your cell, the clan had already agreed to send another volunteer in to try to help you. This would have been a tremendous sacrifice for a people so attuned to living free. In return for their help, I agreed not only to help with the rescue but to teach them of our ways, of better ways to use the Mother’s gifts.” He paused, reached out to briefly touch Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I also gave my word that we would abide by their customs.”

“Yes, Master. I appreciate the fact that I would not be here without their help,” Obi-Wan said impatiently, “but you did a lot for them as well. I still don’t understand why we can’t leave.”

“I agreed that we would abide by *all* of their customs.” He paused again, drawing a ragged breath, then looked into Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Since Maogg claimed you, and you submitted to his service, you must remain in his service, to obey and serve faithfully, for at least another year before you can challenge him for your release. You are ranshurr, Obi-Wan, and I can not change that.”

“What!” exclaimed the apprentice angrily. “But that. . .that’s insane.” He looked at Maogg. “That was under duress, surely everyone must see that. I didn’t give *my* word to do any of this.”

Maogg looked on silently as Qui-Gon spoke again. “Did Maogg best you in personal combat?”

Obi-Wan looked up, eyes raging, jaw clenched. “Yes, Master.”

“Did you submit to him, offer your service?”

“I was going to die in that place, Master, he was going to let me freeze to –“

“Answer the question,” interrupted Qui-Gon sternly.

“Yes, Master,” answered Obi-Wan angrily.

“Then you are ranshurr; you belong to him and must stay.” Qui-Gon started to reach out to his apprentice again but abruptly drew his hand back. He swallowed hard before turning to Maogg. “Maogg, Obi-Wan is yours.” Obi-Wan stared at his master, mouth open in stunned anger and astonishment. Qui-Gon glanced toward Obi-Wan, started to speak, but stumbled over the words. He took another deep breath and continued, “I acknowledge your claim, Maogg, and I thank you for saving him. Obi-Wan is young, and can be stubborn and wild tempered, and I understand that you will need to discipline him at times. I say to you, however, that he is a good-hearted person, and very precious to me.”

Maogg inclined his head gracefully. “I know that he cares deeply for you, and it is clear that he means much to you. I shall take good care of him.” He raised his voice to address the chief and the crowd. “I declare before all that I continue my claim on the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, and that Master Jinn is truly an honorable man who honors us and the clan Jedi with his sacrifice.”

There was a general round of cheering and stamping of feet. Obi-Wan continued kneeling in sick disbelief. He had come out of a Sithspawned hell of despair to find his dreams come alive again, only to be rejected in favor of duty and honor. Force, his master wouldn’t even look at him, was just going to leave him here.

Qui-Gon stood quietly, his expression withdrawn, eyes focused on the ground, until the noise died down again. He looked up to address the chief. “Are you satisfied that honor has been observed, that all obligations have been fulfilled?”

“We are very satisfied, Master Jedi. There are no further claims on either side, but you will always be welcome at our fires as a member of our family.”

“I thank you, and I thank the people of the White Panther clan for the help they have given me and my apprentice.” He paused again. “There is now another custom I wish to invoke, if I may be allowed. It is an old custom, seldom used, but I believe it is appropriate in this situation.”

“Master Jinn, tonight is for celebration, to honor the rescue of Laregg. There will be no new business.”

“But it is very important, Chief Luthej,” entreated Qui-Gon, “and will not take much time –“

“I’m sorry, but not tonight,” the chief replied with an apologetic smile. “We will gather again to sing to the Mother and we can talk then, if you wish, or at the next gathering.”

Qui-Gon bowed in acquiescence. “Of course. Thank you for your patience. I shall wait.”

The next few hours seemed an eternity of misery for the young Jedi, accentuated by the contrast to the simple enjoyment of the clan members on this festive evening. Obi-Wan sat huddled next to Maogg, keeping him supplied with food and drink in between the singing and dancing. He could see Qui-Gon at the other end of the building, trying to remain unobtrusive in the semi-darkness but occupied by a stream of well wishers.

Twin flutes piped a joyful tune as the drummer kept the dancers moving swiftly to the beat. Nimoral’s silvery laugh floated over the room as she led a line of women into a circle dance, the men cheering and clapping appreciatively.

~ How can he just sit there like nothing’s wrong? ~ Obi-Wan thought resentfully, staring dully at Qui-Gon. ~ Doesn’t it mean anything to him that I’m stuck here with this bastard? ~

Bavod stopped by to invite Obi-Wan to dance, but the young Jedi just shook his head as Bavod was dragged away by two smiling young women. Obi-Wan could see Maogg standing near a fire, smiling, hands gesturing. After several minutes he came back to join Obi-Wan, and they ate while the clansman regaled their nearest companions with hunting stories.

Later Laregg came over to sit with them and tried to keep the glum apprentice occupied while Maogg danced or talked with friends. He was cheerfully trying to point out the benefits of belonging to White Panther clan but not making much headway. The clansman sipped occasionally of the lightly alcoholic fermented brew in his glass.

Returning from another dance, Maogg drained the mug of water Obi-Wan had been holding for him, then sent him off for a mug of ale. As he returned, Obi-Wan saw the two kinsmen whispering, then Maogg nodded.

“Your ale, Mazhten.”

“Thank you.” Maogg paused, glanced at Laregg. “Do you wish to speak to Master Jinn?”

Obi-Wan’s breath froze as he stared at the ground. Without looking up, he finally answered, “Yes, Mazhten.”

“Go on then.” Maogg jerked his head in Qui-Gon’s direction. “I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll collect you then.”

“Thank you, Mazhten.”

Obi-Wan slowly made his way across the floor, standing respectfully to one side while Nimaral chatted with Qui-Gon.

“Good evening, Obi-Wan,” Nimaral said quietly, acknowledging the young man’s presence.

“Good evening, Nimaral,” Obi-Wan replied with a bow.

“I’m sure we shall speak again later, Master Jinn,” Nimaral said as she rose, smiling. “The gathering will be breaking up soon. Tomorrow is another work day, and there will be more work than usual while the herds are in.”

Qui-Gon rose and bowed as the matriarch departed, then returned to his seat. Neither man could feel the training bond while Obi-Wan was still wearing the collar, and there was an awkward silence between the two men for several moments as they tried to determine how to proceed.

“Master,” said Obi-Wan formally, “it is good to see you alive and well.”

“Thank you, Padawan,” Qui-Gon replied. “It is good to see you out of that prison.”

Another self-conscious silence.

Finally Obi-Wan could stand it no longer. He knelt down and pressed himself against Qui-Gon’s leg. “Master, please tell me you’re not really going to leave me here. We are going home, aren’t we?” he pleaded.

Qui-Gon reached out and pushed the apprentice back to arm’s length. “Padawan,” he said firmly, “control yourself. I cannot jeopardize over two hundred years of work that have gone into developing the Jedi’s relationship with the clans just for one individual. You must understand that.”

“No, I don’t. And *you* don’t understand what it’s like, what I’ve been through. You’ve lived with these people, you’ve seen how they treat the ranshurr. I can’t stay here. Don’t you care about what is happening to me?”

“Padawan, you will do what you must.” The Master’s expression softened. “Obi-Wan, I do care, a great deal, and I will get you out if I can. There is at least one more thing I can try, but we have to wait until the singing later. Even if that doesn’t work, if you do have to stay, I will see if I can at least get a Healer out here to take that collar off. That is all I can promise.”

Obi-Wan leaned angrily into the arm holding him away. “We don’t have to wait. I could leave at any time, Master,” he whispered urgently. “We could just slip away, head back to the space port – “

“No,” hissed Qui-Gon. “Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve been saying? I will get you out legally, in accordance with their customs, or you *will* stay here. For now, you must be patient, give me an opportunity to work on this. Please trust me, Obi-Wan.”

“I don’t believe this! How can you –“ Obi-Wan’s outburst was cut short as a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

“Good evening, Master Jinn,” Maogg said. “I hope you have enjoyed the gathering.”

“Yes, thank you, Maogg,” Qui-Gon replied as he stood up. “It was a good gathering. Everyone has been most kind.”

“Good. The next few days will be busy, but after that I am looking forward to teaching Obi-Wan the hunting ways.” He riffled the apprentice’s hair fondly, ignoring the apprentice’s angry expression. “If he can hunt half as well as he fights, he will bring much meat to our tables.”

“Obi-Wan is usually a quick learner,” replied Qui-Gon stiffly. “I am sure he will do well.”

Maogg looked at the Jedi Master, noting the formal posture and hooded eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, “I will take good care of the boy.” Maogg pulled Obi-Wan to his feet. “Good night, Master Jinn.”

 

*************** ****************

 

Obi-Wan lay silently under the heavy blanket, his guts knotted, his thoughts running on a tired treadmill of anger and pain. He clutched a pillow to his chest, his back warmed by the heat of the clansman spooned behind him. He was thankful that Maogg had not demanded service before quickly dropping off to sleep, but he could feel the heavy cock nudging his naked ass, and he remembered the sounds of sex coming from many of the cubicles inside the building as people drifted back from the gathering.

~ How could he do this to me? I thought everything would be fixed if I could only get out of that place, and it was so wonderful to find out that Qui-Gon is alive. But everything is so wrong now. How can I trust him when he pushed me away? My own master, telling me I have to stay in this miserable place, serve as ranshurr. How could he possibly do this to me? ~

For hours the young man drifted in a fog of dull hurt, beyond tears. Obi-Wan was so preoccupied he failed to notice when Maogg quietly rose and slipped on leggings and boots.

“Oww!” Obi-Wan yelped at the sudden sharp sting across his ass. “What the hell –“ Another swat silenced him as he was yanked out of bed.

“The Mother is bright,” Maogg said quietly. There were quiet murmurs and shuffling in the common area.

Obi-Wan pulled on his leggings and boots in the dim light, grabbed his cloak, then grudgingly followed Maogg as they joined the line of people heading out the door.

The night was crisp and clear, a slight breeze making Obi-Wan grateful for the warmth of the heavy cloak. The clan gathered in a circle, kneeling close together, faces up to the soft light of the stars and bright half moon. Laregg slipped in beside the apprentice, smiling at Obi-Wan and Maogg before directing his attention upward.

The chief Luthej began with a short chant, smooth baritone rising softly above the crowd. The entire clan then joined in, a surprisingly harmonious voice ringing through the valley and ascending to the heavens. Despite himself, Obi-Wan was slowly lifted from his wallow of angry self-pity by the energy and power of the singing. The joy of life, gratitude for the Mother’s gifts, pleasure and honor in serving Her; of all these things the clan sang with simple clarity and sincerity as they shared the warmth of each other’s bodies and spirits. By the time they were finished, Obi-Wan almost felt as if he had been able to touch the Force once more despite the inhibiting collar.

As the last clear note drifted across the valley, every one stood. Before the clanspeople could begin dispersing, Qui-Gon called out.

“I request a boon of the White Panther clan.”

There was silence for several moments as the chief stepped forward and looked at the Jedi Master. “You have new business to bring before the clan?”

“Yes. I have little time before I or my apprentice must return to my own people, and the matter is urgent.”

“Very well.” The chief raised his voice. “Send the children and younglings back to bed. Let all others meet in the clan house.”

A few minutes later the central house was relit and full of curious people. Conversations hummed around the long room.

The chief raised his arms. “Silence. Master Jinn wishes to address the clan. We shall listen to his request.”

Qui-Gon bowed to the chief. “I thank you for your time and attention. There is a custom of the clans that I wish to invoke, if I may be allowed. It is an old custom, seldom used, but I believe it is appropriate in this situation.”

“Of course, Master Jinn. You have honored us with your observation of our ways, even though they are so different from your own. Please proceed."

“Thank you, chief, people of the White Panther.” Qui-Gon turned and moved to stand in front of Maogg. “Maogg, you have in your service, as your ranshurr, the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Yes,” acknowledged Maogg, his expression puzzled.

“I offer myself in exchange for Obi-Wan,” said Qui-Gon. He took a deep breath and went to one knee before the clansman. “Free him, and I promise to obey and serve you in all things for the term of Obi-Wan’s service to you.”

The room instantly filled with buzzing of stunned conversations and stamping of feet. Such a thing had not been seen in many years, not in most people’s lifetimes, and certainly not by such a distinguished warrior.

Obi-Wan was probably the most stunned of all. He knew all too well the full extent of the ‘service’ that was required; the thought of his proud and elegant master reduced to menial duties and a convenient sex object was unbearable. On his knees he threw himself between the two men.

“No,” he cried. “Master, I can’t let you do this. Maogg, I will stay with you, I’ll do whatever you want. Please don’t take my Master.”

Maogg cuffed the apprentice hard, sending him sprawling to the floor. “This is not for you to say. Be silent.” Maogg looked appraisingly at the Jedi master kneeling before him as the miserable apprentice lay on the floor, wiping blood from his split lip. The room finally quieted enough for Maogg to be heard.

“Master Jinn, you understand that obedience is absolute and service includes *all* things of body and mind, whenever and wherever I choose?”

Qui-Gon looked up into the blue eyes that mirrored his own. “I understand what the service of ranshurr requires,” he said softly, “and you have my word that I shall serve all of your needs.”

Maogg stood for a moment with hands on hips, looking back and forth from older to younger Jedi. Very slowly he walked around the Jedi Master, then stopped in front of him. He reached out with one hand, running a tentative thumb along Qui-Gon’s jawline, tracing the edge of the beard.

~ No, no, please Force, don’t let him do this. ~ Obi-Wan watched, cursing the inhibiting collar that prevented him from contacting his Master or influencing the outcome, desperately willing the clansman to refuse the exchange. He cringed when Maogg touched Qui-Gon, fear and disgust warring with a flare of possessive jealousy.

Qui-Gon continued to kneel silently, looking steadily up at the clansman as Maogg ran a rough hand through the Jedi’s long hair, then a light fingertip across his lips. The crowd murmured speculatively as the inspection continued.

Maogg stepped back, licking his lower lip as he looked at Qui-Gon. Once more he looked contemplatively at the apprentice, who knelt, shaking his head, mouthing his plea silently. Finally he looked back at the older Jedi, then sighed heavily.

“Your offer is very tempting, Master Jinn. The taming and taking of one such as you would bring much honor and pleasure to the Mother.”

There was a low drone of whispered excitement in the room as the clansman took one last look at the two Jedi.

Finally, Maogg shook his head regretfully. “Unfortunately, I can not accept your offer.”

Qui-Gon clenched his hands as Obi-Wan sighed in relief, the small sound lost in the collective gasp.

“I have offered in good faith and sworn to serve you,” Qui-Gon said fiercely. “My word has always been good with the people of White Panther. Why will you not accept my plea?”

“I do not doubt the sincerity of your offer and your willingness to serve,” Maogg replied with another shake of his head. “Your offer is truly tempting, but the Mother requires that the obligation of service flow both ways, Master Jinn. I could care for your physical well-being, but I fear there is little I could teach you that you don’t already know better than I. No, I could not honorably fulfill my obligations to you, and I can not accept your offer. Kenobi must stay here.”

Finally accepting defeat, Qui-Gon’s shoulders sagged as he swallowed hard. Anguish filled his eyes as he looked at his fallen apprentice. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan.”

There was an appreciative silence in the room as the two Jedi looked at each other. Pain was evident on both faces, regret and longing hanging the in the air. Obi-Wan was torn inside by conflicting emotions: grateful that his beloved master would not be forced to serve but miserable that he had to stay.

The long silence was broken by Laregg. “Master Jinn, there is another custom you may wish to invoke.”

Qui-Gon stood up, a small glimmer of hope in his dull eyes. “What is that custom?”

“You have the right to request of the council that you be allowed to challenge Maogg for ownership of Obi-Wan.”

“You should not encourage such challenges,” the chief objected sharply, turning on his son. “It is seldom allowed; it causes too much dissension and ill-feelings, and has led to death challenges in the past. Why would you suggest this now?”

Laregg stood up, head high, to address the chief and the clan council. “It is clear to me that these two men of the clan Jedi care for each other a great deal and wish very much to leave together. Obi-Wan was only doing his clan duty when he ended up in the prison and became Maogg’s ranshurr. Master Jinn has strictly observed our customs when he could easily have just taken his apprentice and left in the night. By the Jedi clan customs, he is Obi-Wan’s rightful master, but has yielded to his sworn word to obey White Panther customs. If there is another way, a legitimate way within our customs, for the master to reclaim his apprentice, it is only right that we allow this opportunity.” He turned to Qui-Gon. “If the council approves, the challenge need not be to the death, only to the surrender by one man. If you lose, however, Maogg can claim both of you.”

“Thank you, Laregg, I will gladly take that chance,” replied Qui-Gon with a small, grateful smile. He turned to the chief. “If it be your will, and the will of your people, I wish to make this petition to the council.”

The chief looked around the room, noting the nodding heads and shouts of “Yes,” and “Let the Jedi petition.” He reluctantly turned back to Qui-Gon as the room quieted again. “Very well, Master Jinn. You may put your request forward. On your own head be the results.”

Qui-Gon nodded to acknowledge the chief’s acquiescence, then stepped forward and knelt before the four men and two women who sat on the front bench to the chief’s right. “I petition the council of the White Panther clan for permission to challenge Maogg for ownership of the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The room buzzed with conversation as the group conferred for several minutes. Obi-Wan’s thoughts were in turmoil again. He felt like he was being whipsawed between joy and anxiety. The new hope that Qui-Gon might have found a way to reclaim him was offset by the fear that they would both end up as ranshurr. Unable to affect the outcome, he could only observe helplessly. Meanwhile, both Qui-Gon and Maogg waited impassively for the council’s decision.

Finally a white-haired woman rose. “The council grants permission for the challenge. No weapons are allowed, it must be done immediately and the challenge ends when one man yields.”

“Thank you.” Qui-Gon immediately stood and turned to Maogg. “I challenge you for ownership of Obi-Wan Kenobi. If I win, Obi-Wan is mine. If I lose, both Obi-Wan and I will serve you as ranshurr, and I will help you find things to teach me to satisfy your honor. What say you, Maogg?”

Maogg looked at Obi-Wan for a moment, then took a very long look at Qui-Gon, appraising him. Finally a wolfish grin spread slowly across his face. “I accept your challenge, Master Jinn,” Maogg said, hands on his hips. “I look forward to a battle with such a worthy opponent.” The grin spread even wider. “I shall enjoy even more breaking you in for the Mother.”

Qui-Gon looked back calmly. “We shall see.”

The two combatants withdrew to opposite ends of the building to prepare as the center of the building was rapidly cleared, benches piled along the walls. The buzz and chatter of excitement reverberated in the air, tension rapidly building until it was almost visible.

Maogg was already wearing only pants and boots and needed only to remove his belt and boot knives. While they waited for Qui-Gon to finish his preparations, the clansman turned to Obi-Wan, whom he had brought with him. He pulled the young Jedi into a dark corner, away from the crowd.

“Strip.”

“Surely you’re not serious,” said Obi-Wan, glaring at Maogg.

“You still belong to me. I have been lenient because I know it has been very difficult for you, and because you helped save the chief’s son, but I will not tolerate any further disobedience or disrespect,” replied Maogg sternly. “I wish to show my people that you are a prize worth fighting for. Strip.”

“Yes, Mazhten,” said Obi-Wan. He still glared balefully at the clansman, but bit down hard on his tongue to keep from any further outbursts. He hated the idea of being paraded around naked in front of Qui-Gon and the clan, but hated even more the idea of being disciplined where his master might see him.

When the young Jedi was naked, Maogg knelt before him and locked a fine silver chain onto the ring set into the end of Obi-Wan’s penis. He loosened the base cock ring and began fondling the flaccid organ; when it was not sufficiently responsive he reached a hand between the apprentice’s legs and inserted a long digit into Obi-Wan’s anus to stimulate the prostate. Although he was grateful for the dark corner and for the fact that Maogg stood between him and the crowd, Obi-Wan was still burning with embarrassment both from the relatively public handling and the arousal he now displayed. Looking up, he saw Bavod watching them; Obi-Wan wanted to crawl out the door and hide but had to settle for closing his eyes. When Maogg was satisfied with the full erection, he tightened the cock ring, drawing a grunt from the young man.

Holding the end of the chain in his left hand, Maogg stepped forward into the light and gave an inarticulate roar. Satisfied that he had everyone’s attention, he began pacing around the perimeter of the cleared area, the tugging of the chain forcing Obi-Wan to follow. Twice around the perimeter they went, Maogg extolling the virtues of the prize, running a hand down his shoulder and across his abdomen to point out his muscles, tweaking a nipple and patting the bare buttocks with a leer, forcing the apprentice’s head up to point out his good looks and intelligence, while the crowd cheered or commented. It mattered little to Obi-Wan that the comments were admiring or pleased instead of crude and hateful; the whole experience was too reminiscent of being back in the prison. The sympathetic smile from Laregg as they passed made hardly a dent in the apprentice’s disgust and loathing.

Obi-Wan had never felt so totally exposed. It seemed his entire body blushed hot scarlet; he could feel the individual drops of sweat forming, then dripping, from his own heat. Every touch of Maogg’s hand was a searing brand across his naked skin. The smell of massed bodies and smoke clogged his nostrils; every word, every crackle of the fire, every jingle of the chain filled his ears. His mouth was dry as he sucked for air, the taste of bile bitter in the back of his throat. Every tug on the silver chain pulled painfully at his throbbing cock; he could feel every pebble and sharp rock under his bare feet, every stray breeze on his skin. Time seemed to have stopped, each step taking an eternity as Obi-Wan battled the fear that Maogg would decide to fondle him or fuck him in front of his master.

Qui-Gon was at one end of the circle in leggings and boots doing a few simple stretches; each time they passed him Obi-Wan cringed inwardly, the blush ratcheting even higher as he begged the Force to open a hole in the floor and drop him in it. He snatched furtive glances, but could not tell from Qui-Gon’s empty expression if his master was disgusted or angry. When they had finished two complete circuits, Maogg directed Obi-Wan to stand on a bench next to the chief and locked the loose end of the chain to the chief’s chair. He held the key up for all to see, waggled it at Qui-Gon with a challenging laugh, then with a flourish handed the key to the chief for safekeeping.

The crowd quieted as Jedi and clansman moved to the center of the cleared area. They bowed to the chief, turned to face each other and bowed again. At the chief’s signal, they dropped into a crouch and began warily circling. Both men were in excellent physical condition and well versed in unarmed combat skills; the first several minutes were spent in feints and seeking potential weaknesses. They glided smoothly about the circle, taking advantage of the full space as they began seriously engaging. Maogg was the active aggressor; Obi-Wan was reminded of the endless drills in the training salles when his master would emphasize letting opponents expend their energies on the attack while conserving his on defense.

Qui-Gon let the clansman force him around the circle; smoothly defending but rarely counterattacking unless he had a clear advantage. Maogg had the advantage of youth, strength and aggressiveness, but Qui-Gon’s patience and battle experience eventually began to frustrate the clansman. After twenty minutes both men were breathing heavily; Qui-Gon was bleeding from several scratches and the recent scar on his left shoulder had been partially reopened during a bone-crunching wrestling tussle. The crowd was quiet, awed and respectful of the exceptional battle being enacted before them.

Maogg began attacking Qui-Gon’s left side as the Jedi tried to hide an apparently weakened arm. It seemed that Maogg now had the advantage; with a swift move he had Qui-Gon locked in a wrestling hold and was twisting his right arm painfully. It was then that Qui-Gon exploded in a counterattack; he shifted around and with his supposedly weakened left arm slammed Maogg’s head back.

Both men jumped to their feet but Qui-Gon was suddenly relentless, hammering home blow after blow as he forced his rapidly weakening opponent around the circle. The crunching of bone preceded a gush of blood from a broken nose, a loose tooth was spat into the crowd, blood and sweat mixed freely.

Qui-Gon forced Maogg to the ground with a sweeping kick and was immediately on him, one knee grinding into the small of his back as he pulled the head back for a killing blow. For several seconds Qui-Gon held the position as the room stilled to silence. The silence stretched as Qui-Gon slowly pulled the head back further, an agonizing fraction of an inch at a time, bones cracking like shots, as the clansman desperately but futilely struggled. Finally Maogg slapped the ground with his free hand and croaked out through the stranglehold, “I yield.”

Qui-Gon immediately released the clansman as the room erupted in cheers and stamping feet. He helped Maogg to his feet and the two men embraced before staggering toward the chief. They stood with chests heaving, bloody sweat pouring down. Obi-Wan jumped down from the bench, cheering with the crowd, a huge grin on his face, almost radiating joy.

“Qui-Gon Jinn. . .has honorably bested me,” panted Maogg. “I yield. . .to the Jedi. . .Obi-Wan belongs to him.”

The chief rose and signaled for silence. “You have heard and witnessed. In fair combat, Maogg yields to Qui-Gon Jinn. Ownership of the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi is hereby transferred to Master Jinn.” There was more stamping of feet as the chief gave the key to Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon bowed respectfully, held the key up, then ceremoniously began to unlock the chain.

“Thank you, Master,” whispered Obi-Wan happily, “I can’t even begin to tell you how wonderful I feel.”

“Hold that thought, Padawan,” whispered Qui-Gon dryly, still breathing heavily, as he finished unlocking the chain from the chief’s chair. “We’re not quite finished with local customs yet.”

“What?” asked Obi-Wan, confused.

The apprentice’s question was answered the next moment by a sudden tug on the chain as Qui-Gon led his apprentice around the room by the chain attached to his still painfully erect cock so that all could see and acknowledge the change of ownership.

~ Just a fucking minute, ~ Obi-Wan thought, his joy rapidly turning to anger, highly mortified at this turn of events under his new owner. ~ This is carrying local custom a little *too* far. ~

Finishing up before the chief and council, Qui-Gon bowed again and thanked them for their hospitality.

Obi-Wan finally noticed all of the people looking expectantly at him while Qui-Gon was speaking and a horrible thought occurred to the embarrassed apprentice. ~ Just how far is he going to take this local custom thing? ~ His stomach churned as he remembered that first day with Maogg.

~ Surely he wouldn’t go through with the milking? ~ Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon’s sweaty back, fervently wishing once more the collar was gone so he could reach out over their training bond. ~ Would he? ~

The apprentice swallowed hard and began a heartfelt prayer to the Force. ~ Please, not that. . . . ~ A panicky sweat began pouring down his face and once more he felt terribly exposed in his nakedness, imagining that everyone was staring at his hard cock trapped by the heavy ring circling its base.

Qui-Gon turned to address the entire gathering, shooting a sharp glance at his apprentice as if sensing his concerns despite the absence of their bond. “People of the White Panther clan, I wish to thank all of you for your graciousness, your help and your hospitality. One other thing I must also ask of you; understanding of the Jedi customs. I know that among the clans a new owner normally establishes his claim by milking his ranshurr –“

There was a wave of murmurs from the crowd.

Obi-Wan’s sphincter tightened, his heart racing as his hands clenched into white knuckled fists. ~ Please, not that, not here, not now. . . . ~

“I would ask you to understand that this is not the Jedi way. Among our people, this is a very private thing, for two people to be together in intimate union or sexual activity. I will be taking Obi-Wan back, to reaffirm our relationship before our council of elders. We are Master and Padawan again, and shall return to our normal relationship at home. In the name of the Jedi, I thank you again for all of your help. May the Mother’s blessing be on you.”

There was a moment of silence, then Obi-Wan breathed a huge sigh of relief as he saw a few heads begin nodding.

Maogg stepped up and proclaimed loudly, “That is fair.” He hugged Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. “May the Mother’s blessing go with you, my friends.” Laregg was right behind him, hugging the two men as a general wave of nods and assent swept the room.

The chief then indicating that the ceremonies were completed, the clan broke up, many coming by to congratulate the Jedi Master before they returned to their beds for the remainder of the night.

“Obi-Wan, take off the chain and cock ring. The collar and piercings will have to wait until later,” said Qui-Gon quietly, handing his apprentice the key. The master continued to answer his well-wishers as Obi-Wan quickly complied.

Maogg brought the apprentice’s clothes and Obi-Wan gratefully put on the leggings and boots. Laregg brought a basin of water and clean cloths so Obi-Wan could clean the worst of the sweat and blood from his Master.

“My father told me you will be leaving in the morning,” Laregg said quietly during the quick cleanup.

“Yes,” Qui-Gon replied. “We are both long overdue to return home, and we need to get to the spaceport to catch a flight off planet.”

“I wish you could have stayed longer, but I certainly understand the desire to return home,” replied Laregg with a wistful smile.

“You will need clothes for Obi-Wan for the trip. I will bespeak Nimaral on your behalf; I’m sure she will have something suitable from among our stores,” offered Maogg.

“Thank you, Maogg. That is most kind of you.” Qui-Gon picked up the heavy cockring from the floor where Obi-wan had thrown it. “I won’t need this, Maogg. It is yours if you wish.”

Maogg took the ring with an amused snort. “I will keep it as a reminder of the Mother’s gifts and lessons, Master Jinn. Her gifts, for sending Obi-Wan to me in our time of need,” he hugged the apprentice briefly once more, “and her lessons in not being so overconfident.” The clansman rubbed his sore neck ruefully.

They all laughed, although Obi-Wan’s was rather subdued, and went to get what sleep they could. Obi-Wan wrapped himself in a spare blanket and slept on the floor of Qui-Gon’s cubicle in the visitors quarters.

 

****************** ***************

 

The next day Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan rose early but found that most of the clan was already awake and finishing breakfast in the pre-dawn darkness. They packed their few belongings, then went to one of the communal dining areas to eat.

“Ah, there’s my Jedi,” Maogg called cheerily as he dropped two packages on the nearly deserted table. “Nimoral sends her greetings and hopes these travel clothes fit.” Laregg trailed behind quietly, a smile on his face.

Qui-Gon stood up and bowed. “Please send my greetings and thanks to Nimoral. I’m sure they will do fine and are much appreciated, as has been all the help you and your clan have provided.” He nudged his apprentice, who was single-mindedly scooping up sweetened porridge and stuffing fresh bread into his mouth between spoonfuls.

Hastily swallowing the last of his porridge, Obi-Wan wiped his sleeve across his mouth as he stood. “Yes, thank you for all the help.”

Maogg stepped forward to engulf the apprentice in a huge hug. Obi-Wan unthinkingly flinched back and started to retreat, but stopped at the hurt look that flashed across the clansman’s face. Stung by a wave of guilty remorse as he belatedly remembered the sacrifices that had been made on his behalf, Obi-Wan stopped and offered a tentative hug. Maogg’s face lit up again as he swept the apprentice up in a breath-robbing bear hug.

“You are welcome, my little Jedi,” Maogg beamed. “You know, with more training I could teach you to be a good hunter if you want to come back.”

“Uh, thank you, but I don’t think we’ll be coming back any time soon.”

“Ah, I see.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

“Obi-Wan, if you are finished, please take the extra clothing and add it to our packs. Then you can check to see if our mounts are ready,” Qui-Gon said quietly.

“Yes, Master, I’m finished.” Obi-Wan gathered the travel clothes, then hesitated.

“I really do appreciate getting out that prison, Maogg,” Obi-Wan said, looking down at the floor.

“You’re welcome,” Maogg replied. “I hope you have a safe journey.”

Obi-Wan nodded, paused for a quick hug with Laregg, then hurried out the door.

Laregg stepped up to hug Qui-Gon. “I am very grateful for the help you provided to get us out of the prison. I don’t think it could have been accomplished without your assistance.”

“Well, I did have a motive of my own,” Qui-Gon said with a smile. He turned to Maogg. “I know it was difficult for both of you, Maogg, but I too appreciate what you did to help keep my apprentice alive and get him out of that prison.”

“I did what was necessary.” Maogg sighed wistfully. “I like the boy very much, and took good care of him, but he doesn’t like me at all.” He shook his head. “Obi-Wan was very proud, very stubborn, and did not accept the Mother’s teachings. I’m sorry I had to hurt him so much to make him obey, but your ways are very strange to me. I don’t think either of us ever understood the other very well.”

“It was a difficult time for him, and, as you say, our ways are very different,” Qui-Gon said. “I’m simply glad that we were able to get all of you out of there alive.” He paused. “What will you do now that you are back? I know you let your wife go back to her own clan before you went into the prison.”

“I have my place in White Panther back, and the successful escape gives me much esteem as a warrior,” Maogg replied, a smile replacing his glum expression. “I have already had questions from several young men who wish to become hunters and warriors. I expect I will soon have several ranshurr offers to choose from, although it will be hard to replace Obi-Wan.” He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “I’ve also got my eye on Vanok’s oldest daughter, the tall blonde one who just finished her ranshurr service to the master weaver. I think she will be very happy to warm my bed this winter as my next wife.”

Laregg laughed and slapped his kinsman on the back. “I hear she has a temper that will keep more than your bed warm, my friend.”

“A spirited companion is always best. We will get along well,” Maogg replied with a complacent grin.

The three men made their way to the caves where the herds were housed. The two Jedi made their final farewells there before leaving to head south on a pair of borrowed ghiphnen. Their destination was a small spaceport which was used mostly by smugglers. One of the White Panther’s sister clans, the Red Sherdon, had contacts among the smugglers and had secured passage off the planet to a mid Rim planet where they could arrange passage back to Coruscant. Five long days of hard riding got them to the edge of a ragged town, where they gratefully handed off the ghiphnen to the clansman who had accompanied them.

For the next few weeks they slowly made their way from system to system. They carried on a seemingly normal relationship as master and padawan, maintaining a distant politeness. Beneath the pleasant facade, however, Obi-Wan was having difficulty dealing with several mixed emotions as well as some new feelings. The apprentice knew he should be grateful for his rescue, but he was having problems overcoming a lingering resentment over the way Qui-Gon had claimed him and shame for not trusting his master. Obi-Wan was even more troubled, though, when he found that he had developed an intense shyness both about his body and about speaking to his master after all that had happened to him. The physical contact that he had once craved was now uncomfortable, even incidental contact in cramped quarters causing him to shy away, leaving an unpleasant dirty feeling behind. Qui-Gon did not push the issue, merely reminding his apprentice that he would have to make a report to the Council when they got home. Eventually they finally found themselves wedged into a tiny cabin on a freighter bound for the capital planet. The padawan insisted that his master take possession of the single bunk while he voluntarily took the floor at night.

Although exceedingly happy to have seen the last of Junmek, Obi-Wan was still quiet and withdrawn as he tried to work through his confused feelings. He was not really sleeping well or meditating properly, but hoped those problems would go away once the Force dampening collar was finally off. A few days out from Coruscant, though, he had finally relaxed enough around his master that he felt comfortable enough to apologize for his actions at the clan gathering and to ask him some questions. Obi-Wan was sitting at the cabin’s small table, ostensibly working on his mission report, while Qui-Gon sat cross-legged on the bunk, not quite meditating but not quite dozing either.

“Master,” ventured Obi-Wan quietly.

Blue eyes slowly opened, focused on the young Jedi. “Yes, Padawan?”

“I, uh, wanted to apologize for some of the things I said and did at the clan camp,” Obi-Wan said diffidently. “I should have trusted you instead of accusing you of leaving me behind. I’m sorry, Master.”

“It’s alright, Padawan,” Qui-Gon replied with a small smile. “You were under a great deal of stress and we were not able to communicate with the bond being inaccessible. I wish I had been able to explain what I was going to try to do before Maogg took you away again. It might have saved you some unnecessary pain.”

“I’m not sure that would really have improved the situation very much, Master,” Obi-Wan replied with a rueful grin. “I felt bad enough when you did make that request to substitute yourself for me.” He shuddered briefly. “I think I was actually grateful to Maogg that he turned you down.” Obi-Wan felt a little better for being able to get his feelings and apology out in the open. “I’ve also never really thanked you properly for getting me out of that prison on Junmek, Master,” he continued. “I know it couldn’t have been easy, what with being wounded and then having to wait all that time.”

“You’re welcome, Padawan. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you out sooner.” A shadow passed over his face. “The clan used to get fairly regular reports about what was happening to you and Maogg. I’m very sorry you had to go through all that.”

Neither man felt like elaborating on what ‘that’ had included. “It’s alright, Master. As Maogg used to tell me often enough, everything comes eventually at the right time.”

A smile briefly tugged at the Master’s lips. “Maogg was a good man in his own way; he risked a good deal going into that prison.”

“Yes, Master, I appreciate that.”

“He probably didn’t tell you, but Maogg talked to me just before we left. He apologized for some of the things he did while you were in prison and for not understanding why some of the things he took for granted seemed to upset you so much.”

“Different cultures, different ways,” shrugged Obi-Wan, not wanting to go down that path. “It will be alright.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a while as unspoken topics hung between them. Obi-Wan finally spoke. “It was rather decent of the Council to let you stay and work on rescuing me, Master.”

There was another silence. Obi-Wan looked up; Qui-Gon’s expression was of the ‘If I don’t say anything then it’s not really a lie’ variety.

“Master?” asked Obi-Wan anxiously. “They did let you stay, didn’t they?”

Qui-Gon’s gaze wandered around the room for a bit before he finally looked back at Obi-Wan and cleared his throat. “Well, not really.”

The apprentice continued to look at his master expectantly, not settling for the bare answer.

The master somewhat reluctantly continued. “Padawan, I was the senior Jedi on the mission. There were two other knights and seven very young children who had to get back to Coruscant. I protested, but the Council ordered me to get them off Junmek and leave you behind; they said they would try to send someone back later for you. Once everyone was aboard the ship, we lifted off. After the ship was safely away, however, I took an escape pod and came back.” Qui-Gon paused and sighed. He looked at Obi-Wan with a half smile. “Technically, I obeyed the orders as they were worded, but I expect the Council will not be pleased with me when we get back. There were also a few messages that came in through the, shall we say, less orthodox channels, ordering me in no uncertain terms to get my miserable self back to Coruscant. I am very much afraid that your master is getting old and senile, Padawan, as it seems I must have forgotten to answer any of the messages.”

Obi-Wan smiled at the mock mournful expression on Qui-Gon’s face and shook his head. “Indeed, Master, it is a terrible thing to see the wasting away of a once formidable intellect. I suspect, however, what’s left of your mind will match nicely what little will be left of your ass after the Council gets done ripping large strips off of it.”

That actually drew a chuckle from Qui-Gon and helped ease some of the strain between them.

“There is something else I wanted to ask, Master.”

“Of course, Padawan, if you think I’m up to answering it.”

“Yes, Master,” said Obi-Wan with another smile. It did feel good to start getting back to their old relationship again. “Actually, I was wondering about the lightsabers. The warden had both and they were in very bad shape. I had nightmares because of those Sithdamned things; it was what convinced me you were dead. But then later you showed up at the prison with a light blue one. I don’t understand what happened.”

“Ah, yes, the lightsabers. Obviously I had my own lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“After you were first captured, I was able to get into the area where they had stored your lightsaber, but while I was trying to get to you I must have set off some of the Force monitors they had planted all over that part of the building.”

“Yes, Master. The warden had boasted about the expense they went to in obtaining such a large quantity of monitors.”

“I’m sure he was pleased that his investment paid off,” said Qui-Gon dryly. “I fought my way out to the courtyard and was almost to the outer exit when they started using grenades. I was already wounded; there were several I was not able to fully divert. I decided to make a run for the river so I shed cloak, tunic and boots; during all the chaos I lost both lightsabers. It was a very near thing, and very fortunate that I was able to make it far enough from town to find the White Panther scouting party.”

“But what about the other lightsaber, Master?”

“It is a very curious thing about that other lightsaber, Padawan. It is actually Knight Ghuthiin’s weapon.”

“Quiet, fussy little ‘don’t make waves’ Knight Ghuthiin? He made it clear the whole trip that he didn’t like you, the ‘infamous Jedi Master’,” Obi-Wan did his best squeaky disdainful look-down-the-nose imitation of the knight.

“Yes, that Knight Ghuthiin,” Qui-Gon said with a smile. “You shouldn’t underestimate him, though. He did make it back to the ship with all four infants after you were taken. Underneath the layers of pedantic mindwashing, he is actually quite dedicated to the Force and has had several episodes of accurate prescience.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan subsided. “But how did you end up with Knight Guthiin’s lightsaber?”

“He found me when I was preparing the escape pod to leave. I wasn’t at all certain of why he was there; we actually stood there looking at each other for several minutes like one of those ridiculous scenes from a bad holovid. Finally he gave me a lecture about how I was a bad influence on the younger Jedi with all my ‘dramatic mucking about’ and defying of the Council, I was going to be in a lot of trouble and he didn’t like me in the first place. Then he unhooked his lightsaber and handed it to me, saying he didn’t like it, but he had had a vision that I would need it and the Force required him to do it.” Qui-Gon gave a small snort. “After that he practically ran out of the room as if I were about to infect him with some horrible disease and I proceeded with my escape. When I landed back on Junmek, I hid the extra lightsaber and was able to go back later and recover it after the other two were lost.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I guess it just goes to show that the Force does indeed work in some pretty mysterious ways.”

Qui-Gon smiled, “Or that the Mother bestows her gifts as she will.”

The allusion caught Obi-Wan unaware and he drew back within himself, the temporary familiarity lost again. He looked at Qui-Gon for a moment, eyes blank, then with a formal “Yes, Master,” he turned back to his report. Hunched over the datapad, he missed the thoughtful look of concern on Qui-Gon’s face.

The rest of the return voyage passed quietly. Qui-Gon finished his report early and transmitted it to the Temple, but Obi-Wan was still struggling with his until the day they landed. He finally just decided to gloss over certain aspects and sent it off with the forlorn hope that he wouldn’t be asked too many questions.

 

********************** END PART ONE of TWO *************************


	2. Part Two of Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Jailbait. This section has no violence or non-con, but there is more angst and hurt/comfort.

Part 2

The master and padawan sat in the Council antechamber and waited. They had arrived on Coruscant in the middle of the night, so at least they had not had to report immediately to anyone, but the curt summons waiting on their terminal had brought them here immediately after breakfast. The fact that they had been ordered to report directly to the Council instead of to the Mission Committee usually meant either very good things or very bad things, and in Obi-Wan’s experience it tended to mean the Council was not happy with his master. Qui-Gon sat patiently, but Obi-Wan was silent and withdrawn.

An hour later they were finally admitted. Even with the dampener still on, Obi-Wan could tell that their reception was not exactly friendly, although most of the Council members were casting their chilly glances on Qui-Gon, not him. Reaching the center of the room, they bowed to the senior Council members.

“I have read your mission report, Master Jinn,” said Mace Windu. “The seven children that your team found all tested very well and the Creche Masters are quite pleased with their potential.”

Qui-Gon nodded in acknowledgement.

“However, you did not return to Coruscant with the children.”

“No, Master Windu, I did not.” Qui-Gon’s level gaze did not falter.

Mace let silence linger for a moment. “We will defer the discussion of your actions for the moment.” He turned to the younger Jedi. “We have also read your mission report, Padawan Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan started a bit; he had not expected them to jump directly to him. “Yes, Master Windu.”

“Your role in the mission was without fault. In fact, Knight Guthiin praised your actions in helping to locate several children, and in particular for defending his escape so he was able to get all of the children back to the ship. You are to be commended for those actions. You also have our sympathy for being captured and being forced to spend time in the prison on Junmek.”

“Thank you, Master Windu,” replied Obi-Wan with a bow, wondering nervously when the hammer was going to fall. The Council was rarely this nice and it made him anxious.

“Your report was forwarded to the Healers, of course, since they needed to plan for the removal of the Force dampening device. Given the unknown origin of the device and the length of time you were subjected to its influence, the removal must be very carefully monitored. They wish to start that removal process today, an event I am sure you are eagerly anticipating.”

“Yes, Master Windu. I have very much missed being connected to the Force.”

Mace looked at Obi-Wan thoughtfully for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “Padawan Kenobi, the Healers have also expressed concern about certain aspects of your mission report, in particular what they feel may be omissions.”

“Yes, Master Windu?” Obi-Wan tried to maintain a stoic expression, but couldn’t help the defensive tone of voice.

“You are not being censured, Padawan Kenobi. They are simply concerned for your wellbeing. The attitude of the general Junmek population toward Jedi is well known, as are the types of conditions normally encountered in the prisons for all beings, Jedi or not. Having read your report, they noted some issues which need to be discussed and resolved. They are not singling you out; most beings who have been through your experience need help to work through the emotional and physical aftereffects of those events.”

“Master Windu, I’m sure things will be fine once the collar is off. I don’t think I really need anything else, sir.”

“It is not open for discussion. When you leave here, you will go to the Healers. There will be a preliminary examination, your master will be briefed on how to assist with your Force recovery, and they will remove the collar. You will be staying in the infirmary for a few days to monitor your recovery and during that time you will begin your sessions with the Soul Healers to work through your experiences on Junmek. Unless you have any questions, you may leave now.”

“Master Windu, with all due respect, there’s nothing wrong with my head. I don’t want –“

“What you *want* is irrelevant. You will receive the help you *need*. Please report to the Healers, Padawan Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan stood looking helplessly at his master. He didn’t want to leave him alone to face the Council, and he certainly didn’t want to spend days in the infirmary while they played mind games. He saw Qui-Gon turn his head and nod minutely, a brief reassuring smile flying across his lips before he turned a stoic expression back toward the senior councilor.

“Now, Padawan Kenobi,” barked Master Windu impatiently.

With a last glance at Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan bit his lip and bowed. As he left, he could hear Windu’s icy tones as he started in on Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his problems with obedience.

 

*************** ***************

 

Obi-Wan paced angrily around the small room. It was a little smaller than his prison cell on Junmek, and at the moment he almost felt like he was back there. The first thing the Healers had done that morning was to take his clothes away and put him in this silly gown that didn’t even close properly in the back, then for hours they had poked, prodded, felt, looked, asked questions and generally made him feel like a specimen in a lab. Now he was locked in this shielded room without even a window while they decided what to do next and then briefed Qui-Gon. So far, this was not at all the sort of homecoming he had looked forward to and his resentment was increasing exponentially. Even finally getting the rings removed from his nipples and penis had not improved his temper.

Eventually the door opened and Master Healer Muybovn came in with Qui-Gon and two other Healers. Obi-Wan retreated to the medical bed in the middle of the room and sat on it. Looking to his master for support, Obi-Wan found little comfort in Qui-Gon’s neutral expression, although the small smile seemed intended to be reassuring.

“Good afternoon, Padawan Kenobi,” said Master Muybovn pleasantly. “Good news, young man. The results of your tests indicate you are in excellent physical condition, no illnesses or other problems from your recent adventures. We are going to go ahead and remove the dampener immediately so we can get on with the rest of your recovery.”

“Thank you, Master Healer,” replied Obi-Wan, mentally gritting his teeth at the pleasantries. ~ Just do it, for Force sakes. ~

“I’d like to introduce Soul Healer v’braa and Soul Healer Nolspaq. They will be assisting with the removal and conducting the follow up therapy. We are fortunate in your case that there is another person bonded to you to help with the transition. Your master will be here to provide help by anchoring you with the training bond as the device is removed and providing shielding. If you will please lie back on the bed and make yourself comfortable, we can begin.” Healer v’braa was reptilian, short and bluish gray, while Healer Nolspaq was a tall, dark-skinned humanoid female.

The two Soul Healers took up positions on the left side of the bed and the two masters on the right as Obi-Wan settled in. The Master Healer took a small cutting device from his tunic pocket.

“During the next hour or two, you may experience a series of very unsettling feelings,” said Healer Nolspaq. “We have found from past experience that when someone has been deprived of all connection with the Force for a long period of time, it can be rather overwhelming when contact is initially restored. You should close your eyes and try to relax as much as possible. When Master Muybovn first cuts the collar, you will probably feel a sensation akin to drowning, only it will be mental instead of physical. Master Jinn will be waiting for you; reach out to him through your training bond and let him do the work to shield both of you. As you stabilize, you may experience sensations such as dizziness, weightlessness, nausea, pain or disorientation. Just hang on to the bond, let your mind have time to refamiliarize itself with the fabric of the Force, and Master Jinn will slowly withdraw enough to let you begin reestablishing your own shields.” The Healer smiled, and waved one hand briefly. “This is a shielded room, and we will be heavily shielded ourselves, so you don’t need to worry if you have initial difficulties. Do you have any questions before we start?”

Obi-Wan licked his lips nervously. This sounded worse than he had thought it was going to be. “Uh, what did you mean about reestablishing my shields? I already know how to shield, won’t that still be there?”

“You have some residual shields, but you have not actively used those skills for several months, and we have found that it takes some people longer than others to bring their shielding back into place. Normally there are few serious problems or aftereffects. Just don’t try to rush things and it will be alright.”

~ Force, how much is he really going to see of what’s in there ~ thought Obi-Wan as he looked up at his master anxiously. ~ There are things in my head I don’t think I’m ready for him to see. And what do they really mean about normally there’s no serious problems? ~

Qui-Gon smiled at him, patted his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll be here for you, Padawan. Just let me help you through this.”

“Yes, Master,” replied Obi-Wan. ~ Let’s just get this over with. ~ He swallowed, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Alright, I’m ready.”

The room was quiet save for the humming of the cutting device and the subdued breathing of the four Jedi. Obi-Wan felt a portion of the collar become very warm against his skin as seconds seemed to stretch into minutes. There was a smell of burning circuits just before the collar fell away, taking Obi-Wan with it.

Dark. ~ It’s not supposed to be this dark. What’s happening, what’s wrong. ~

Thick darkness, wrapping around him, dragging him down. ~ No, this can’t be right. ~

Black mud. ~ Master! ~

Nostrils full, eyes stinging. No sight, no sound. Choking mud filling his mouth when he tries to scream. ~ Master! Where are you? Help me! ~

Cascading muck, sliding downhill, tumbling, pushing him down, pushing him under. ~ Master. . . . ~

Falling, cool air, faint light far below him. Reaching, searching. ~ Master? ~

~ Padawan ~

Light rushing, exploding, burning away his skin, leaving him exposed and defenseless. . . . ~ No. . .not there ~

~ Obi-Wan ~

Cool water, plunging deep. Desperate climb to sunlight. Sucking air, clawing up the steep bank. Hot sun, warming him, claiming him.

“Obi-Wan.” Urgent voice calling.

Warmth, solid, rough, familiar. Warmth and safety.

“Obi-Wan.”

Warmth and soft light. So good. Rough wool, herbal scent. ~ wool ? ~

Gray eyes blinked slowly. Cold wall at his back, strong arms holding him up, face buried in dark robe, hard body pressed against his. Hard body, hot and strong, holding him. . . . ~ NO ~

Obi-Wan pushed hard, stumbling away, seeking blindly for the fresher. Falling to his knees, vomiting into the hastily provided waste receptacle.

The cool cloth on his face was soothing. He sipped slowly at the offered water, sitting back against the wall.

“Feeling better?” asked the Master Healer, kneeling on his right side. Qui-Gon knelt on his left.

Slow nod. “Head feels stuffy,” he mumbled. “Stomach hurts.”

“That should go away in an hour or two,” said the Healer. “Let’s see if we can get you back to the bed.”

The two masters carefully helped Obi-Wan to his feet, steadying him through an assault of dizziness, pausing to let another surge of nausea subside. Slowly they made their way back to the bed, easing him up into a sitting position.

“What happened?” asked Obi-Wan.

“You were overwhelmed by the sudden flood of returning sensations and tried to get away. Master Jinn had to hold you still, and you were disoriented as you became aware of the Force again,” replied Master Muybovn. “The violence of the reaction was a bit unusual, but, taken as a whole, nothing too far outside the expected range of reactions.”

Obi-Wan had a few thoughts of his own about some of those reactions, but was not in any sort of mood to want to discuss them. “So, when can I leave?”

“If you make normal progress, probably two to three days,” said Soul Healer Nolspaq. At Obi-Wan’s petulant expression, she held up a hand. “*If* you cooperate, that is.”

“It will be alright, Padawan,” said Qui-Gon. “I will stay here with you for a while and review the basic shielding techniques.”

“Yes, Master,” replied Obi-Wan.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. Remember, Master Jinn, keep things on a very basic level for today,” said the Master Healer. “Healer Nolspaq will be back after latemeal. Just ring the buzzer if you need any of us before then.”

“Thank you, Master Muybovn,” said Qui-Gon.

It was very quiet in the room after the door closed. Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably on the hard bed.

Finally Qui-Gon cleared his throat. “Would you like some water, Padawan?” he asked. “The Healers said that would help with the headache.”

“Yes, please, Master.”

It was quiet again as the apprentice slowly drank his glass of water.

“Do you feel up to going over the shielding drills, Padawan?”

Obi-Wan kept his gaze downward. ~ Force, I hope he didn’t see too much of what’s rattling around inside my head. ~

“Obi-Wan, if you are concerned about what happened to you on Junmek, if you want to talk about it, I am here for you,” said Qui-Gon quietly. “I know it was very horrible, but it can help to talk about it.”

“Yes, Master,” said Obi-Wan, briefly glancing up, wondering if Qui-Gon had picked up that stray thought. “I think I would really prefer to work on the shielding drills, if you don’t mind.” He smiled a bit. “I don’t want to be in here any longer than necessary, Master.”

“Of course,” replied Qui-Gon.

The next few hours passed quietly. Obi-Wan was surprised and a bit dismayed at how rusty some of his skills were, but under Qui-Gon’s guidance he quickly became comfortable again with the shielding routines he had practiced since childhood. By the time latemeal arrived, he felt better both physically and mentally, so much so that Qui-Gon had eased the shielding he had been holding for both of them. Healer Nolspaq came in after they ate and did a quick examination. She was pleased with the results and suggested that Qui-Gon go ahead and release the shields.

Master Healer Muybovn came in as Qui-Gon finished. All three senior Jedi probed delicately at Obi-Wan’s shields.

“You’ve made excellent progress,” said Healer Nolspaq. “Your shields are still very porous compared to your usual abilities but quite good for this stage of your recovery. The room is shielded so you don’t need to worry about broadcasting anything. Keep up the good work and we might get you out of here in two days rather than three.”

“Thank you, Healer Nolspaq,” replied Obi-Wan politely. “I’m feeling much better tonight. I think I have definitely gained a better appreciation for the Force and I can assure you I will be working hard at regaining my shielding and control.”

“Don’t try to take it too fast,” she warned, “I’ll be keeping a close eye on you so you don’t overdo it. Healer v’braa will be here tomorrow to work with you and he has quite a bit of experience in this area.”

“I’m sure both of you are quite good, but, with all due respect, I don’t understand why I can’t just work with my master,” said Obi-Wan, not relishing the prospect of being alone with the Healers.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Master Muybovn cleared his throat delicately. “Padawan Kenobi, Healer v’braa is exceptionally qualified for this work, and I am sure you will continue your excellent progress under his guidance.” He paused and looked at Qui-Gon. “Master Jinn, your assistance in the initial phase was very much appreciated, but I’m afraid that, medically speaking, there isn’t really any reason for you to stay much longer. I can give you another half hour with your padawan, but that poor knight has really been quite persistent. . . .“

“Thank you, Master Healer, I appreciate the time,” replied Qui-Gon with a bow. “I will be out shortly.”

After the door closed, Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon anxiously. “Master, I don’t understand what’s going on. Why can’t you stay? Surely they wouldn’t send you back out on a mission so soon, would they? And what knight was he talking about?”

“I apologize for not telling you earlier, but no, I’m not going anywhere,” said Qui-Gon quietly. A half smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Actually, I am literally not going anywhere. Padawan, we both knew the Council would not be pleased with my actions.” He waited until the young man nodded. “In addition to the reprimand this morning, from now until the start of the new instructional term I am restricted to quarters and assigned eight hours a day of meditation on obedience and discipline with an additional two hours of guided meditation each day. I will be assigned teaching duties this next term and for those four months will be restricted to quarters except for my duties, your training and the dining hall.” He raised a hand to stop Obi-Wan’s protest. “It could have been worse, Padawan. I did disobey three orders to return to Coruscant; I knew there would be consequences to those actions and I made the choice to accept them. In any event, this will be an excellent opportunity for you to catch up on some classes you need to take here at the Temple.”

“But Master, it’s not fair,” said Obi-Wan angrily. “It wasn’t your fault I was stupid enough to get captured. It’s twelve days until the next term starts! It’s like being locked up all that time. And guided meditation; that’s for initiates and junior padawans! It’s not right they should force you to do that, it’s just not fair at all. Why –“

“Padawan, enough.” The quiet tone of command cut through the anger.

“But, it was my fault. . . .“

The look on Qui-Gon’s face was enough to silence the apprentice.

“Yes, Master.” His tongue might be still but his head spun with anger and disgust, both for himself and the Council.

“Padawan, please remember that your shields are not yet up to strength,” said Qui-Gon sternly.

“Yes, Master. I’m sorry.” The apprentice made a determined effort to rein in his errant thoughts.

“Obi-Wan, I don’t mean to intrude,” said Qui-Gon in a softer tone. “I realize you are upset, but you must understand. Nothing that happened is your fault; not getting captured and certainly not my disciplinary actions. Anyone in that situation could have been caught: there were simply too many people to overcome. None of us are invincible.”

Obi-Wan was still having trouble managing both his thoughts and his expression. Enough distress showed that Qui-Gon knew his apprentice was not convinced.

Qui-Gon stepped close to the bed and put a comforting hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “It was *not* your fault and I will not have you berating yourself for something you could not control. And I will certainly not have you taking responsibility for *my* decisions. I care for you a great deal, Obi-Wan, and I let that unduly influence my actions. The proper thing to do would have been to fulfill my responsibility to make sure the children made it back to Coruscant and then try to return for you. I did not do that, and the Council has the right to impose discipline for what I did.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach twisted into knots the second Qui-Gon touched him. He flushed with the heat suddenly burning through him and could only nod obediently as he continued his struggle to control his thoughts and feelings.

“Your duty, Padawan, is to work with the healers and get your shielding back up so you can get out of here,” said Qui-Gon. He gave a playful tug on the long braid as he smiled. “Don’t be so gloomy, Padawan. It’s not the first time I’ve been in trouble with the Council and I doubt it will be the last. I will be alright.”

A determined effort brought ragged shields back into place. Ignoring the dribble of blood sliding across his tongue from his badly bitten inner cheek, the apprentice was able to finally summon a tiny smile for Qui-Gon’s benefit. “Yes, Master.”

“Now then, I believe there is a knight from the Master at Arms office who has been waiting quite a while to escort me to our quarters and officially register the start of the restriction. It’s not his fault either, so let’s be nice to him and let him get on with his job.” Qui-Gon straightened his robe and headed for the door.

“Master?” called Obi-Wan.

“Yes, Padawan?” Qui-Gon stopped halfway and turned, one eyebrow raised.

“Thank you, Master,” said Obi-Wan softly.

Qui-Gon smiled, nodded, then left.

For a long time Obi-Wan wrestled with his feelings before he finally fell into a light sleep.

 

****************** *****************

 

Obi-Wan applied himself diligently the next two days, working doggedly through dull drills on shielding that he had once easily mastered years earlier. Healer v’braa was a patient teacher; exacting but sympathetic to his charge’s desire to push ahead, he let Obi-Wan work to the edge of exhaustion but no further. On the afternoon of the second day, both Soul Healers pronounced themselves satisfied with his progress.

“Here you are, Padawan Kenobi,” said Healer Nolspaq, handing over a bag of clothes. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your discharge papers.”

Obi-Wan dressed quickly and waited impatiently for his release.

The door opened finally and Healer Nolspaq came in with two datapads. “Please sit down so we can go over this, Padawan Kenobi.” When both were seated on the bed, she continued, pointing out items on the first datapad. “These are the tests and results that we did the first day. As you can see, physically you are in excellent condition. These entries here show that Healer Iopa updated your vaccinations, this section is the report on removing the collar, and this part is Healer v’braa’s report on your progress up to this point.” She handed the second datapad to the apprentice. “Review this carefully. It has the instructions for the ongoing shielding and Force manipulation exercises you need to do for the next few months and your schedule of follow-up appointments. You have been removed from Mission status until your shielding and Force skills are back to normal. Your progress in that area will depend in large part on how hard you work on your drills. During your follow-up we will also be working with you to resolve any issues you still have with your experiences on Junmek.”

Obi-Wan had been following the debriefing carefully until that last statement. He bristled and sat back. “I don’t really think that will be necessary, Healer Nolspaq,” he said stiffly. “There aren’t any issues that I can’t handle myself.”

“Padawan Kenobi, I’ve seen your master’s mission report and I’ve seen your mission report. There are major discrepancies between the reports as to what happened to you while you were in that prison, mostly things you left out. I know that you were put in a position where you suffered serious loss of control of your environment and underwent physical, emotional and sexual abuse,” she said bluntly. “Denial is a perfectly normal initial response to the kinds of things that happened to you, but unless you can sit here, right now, and discuss *everything* that went on, how it affected you, how you feel about it and how you feel about yourself now, you will be coming back to see us until you can do that and are comfortable with yourself and your own selfworth again.” She looked steadily at the apprentice.

Jumping off the bed, Obi-Wan stood and looked angrily at the Healer, hands fisted at his sides. He started to speak, but couldn’t get words to come out. In the face of her unblinking gaze, he finally had to look away, face flushing.

“Padawan,” she said in a kinder tone, “nothing that happened was your fault. It is my job to help you to come to terms with what happened and to understand that you are still a good person. It is not going to be pleasant, but I care enough for you that I am going to force you to work through the hurt. I know that right now you would probably prefer that I just ignore the whole problem and leave you alone, but I’m not going to do that.” She smiled. “If you want to curse or yell or stamp around, please feel free. I’m used to that, too.”

Obi-Wan had been wanting badly to do all three, but now he simply felt ridiculous and deflated, like a balloon with a slow leak. He sighed and looked at the datapad in his hand. “Alright, Healer Nolspaq.” He looked up at her again. “What do I have to do to get back on Mission status?”

“The first thing you have to do is understand that this is *not* about getting back to Mission status, it is about getting your head straight,” replied the Healer briskly. “You will be staying on Coruscant for at least this next academic term, so there’s no rush. You need to work on your exercises, keep your appointments and work through the issues. Our immediate goal is to get your shielding back up to par, so you’ll see that we’ve scheduled two appointments a day for the next several days. Once your classes start, assuming your progress is satisfactory, we’ll only need to see you every few days. Now, do you have any questions?”

“No, Healer Nolspaq,” said Obi-Wan, “not right now.”

“Good. If you’ll sign here, we’ll get you out of here.” The Healer held out the datapad and a stylus.

“Don’t we have to wait for my master’s signature?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ve never been allowed to sign myself out before.”

The Healer looked at him blankly for a moment. “Oh. I suppose that with everything else that has been happening I just assumed you already knew.”

“Knew what?”

“You have officially been moved on the rolls to Senior Padawan status. Came through the first day you were back, so I don’t suppose your master has had time to brief you yet,” she smiled. “One of the perks of Senior status is that, once you have the medical release, you can now sign yourself out of the infirmary. We still send a copy of the report and your follow-up schedule to your master, of course, but he no longer has to sign in order for you to get out. Congratulations.”

“Senior? Already? Oh Force,” breathed Obi-Wan, a big grin spreading on his face, “I mean, uh, thank you.” He signed the datapad with a flourish, looked at it wonderingly for a moment, then handed it back.

The Healer walked him back to the main entrance, cheerfully reminding him about keeping his shields up. Obi-Wan absently took his leave as his thoughts darted about like a flock of startled flikr birds. Happiness at the coveted new rank warred with depression over the upcoming therapy sessions, while occasional thoughts of his master or Junmek would send his brain tumbling again. The familiar halls were relatively quiet as most beings were either at latemeal or preparing for evening activities. He arrived at the shared quarters without any memories of how he got there.

The common areas were dim, the only light that coming in from the wide windows opening onto the balcony. Obi-Wan hung up his robe as his eyes adjusted to the light. He noted the still form of his master meditating on the balcony and decided to defer any questions about his promotion until Qui-Gon was ready to discuss it. Obi-Wan quietly let himself into his room, took off his boots, then returned to the kitchen to inventory the cooler and cabinets. The apprentice began assembling ingredients for a simple latemeal, trying to be as quiet as possible, as his thoughts revolved around the upcoming therapy sessions.

“Good evening, Padawan,” said a quiet voice from the doorway.

Obi-Wan dropped the spoon into the soup he had been stirring. Turning his head briefly, “Sorry, Master, I didn’t hear you come in. Good evening.” He turned his attention to fishing the spoon out of the hot liquid.

“Welcome back. You seem to be still in one piece after your stay with the Healers,” Qui-Gon said breezily as he moved into the kitchen to get bowls, plates and utensils to set the table.

“Yes, Master. Very funny, I’m sure,” snapped the apprentice angrily, sucking on a soup-burned finger.

“Be mindful of your shields, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said softly. “They are not at your normal strength yet.”

Obi-Wan stopped, took a deep breath, and made a conscious effort to strengthen his shields. Turning, he bowed to Qui-Gon. “My apologies, Master. I meant no disrespect.”

“It’s alright, Padawan,” Qui-Gon replied with a small smile. “I know you are still working on it. I just don’t want to intrude, even unintentionally, where you don’t want me to.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said, nodding, a tight smile on his face. “This is almost ready, Master. I’ll finish here if you’ll take the salad to the table.”

“Of course,” Qui-Gon replied, respecting his apprentice’s desire to deflect the conversation.

The meal was quiet as both men seemed lost in their own thoughts. Qui-Gon stirred as the apprentice began clearing away.

“Padawan, please join me when you have finished.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan quickly cleared away and cleaned up in the kitchen. He paused in the doorway to look at his master, who was sitting on the old couch in leggings and tunic, bare feet propped up on a low table as he read a datapad. He felt old familiar stirrings in his groin, but this strange new shyness he had felt since their reunion quickly damped them down. He sighed.

Qui-Gon looked up. “Please sit down, Padawan.” He waited until the apprentice had perched himself at the other end of the couch, then sat up straight, putting his feet down on the floor. “I’ve been rather remiss in my responsibilities,” he continued with a smile. “I should have told you earlier, but there was no confirmation until we got back to Coruscant. Let me congratulate you on your promotion to Senior Padawan.”

“Thank you, Master.” A grin kept breaking through Obi-Wan’s attempts at appearing modest. It was the first time in far too long that he felt genuinely happy and warm inside. “I appreciate the honor, especially as I was thinking it might be delayed quite a while because I was stuck on Junmek for so long. I did miss a great deal of training because of that.”

“You earned the promotion on your own merits, Obi-Wan. Actually, I had put you in for it before we left for that mission.”

“Before?” Obi-Wan looked up in surprise. “I thought human padawans had to be over twenty one before their master could even nominate them. I was still only twenty when we left.”

“That is more of a tradition than a rule,” Qui-Gon replied. “You have been an excellent apprentice, Obi-Wan, and your records attest to that. I know it has often been difficult being the apprentice of the infamous Qui-Gon Jinn,” a wry smile graced his face, “but it did provide you with far more field time than most apprentices ever get, and you have proven yourself to be a capable and responsible partner in many difficult situations. It was time to submit your annual evaluation to the Padawan Review Board anyway, so I included the nomination because I felt that you were ready for the increased responsibility and had earned the recognition.”

“Thank you, Master. I have tried to do my best,” said Obi-Wan, his throat a bit tight. “I hope I prove worthy of your trust.”

“The Board approved your promotion, so they obviously agree that you are ready. If you have some time, we need to go over the changes that go with your new status.”

“Of course, Master. I’d like to do that now, please,” Obi-Wan said, a quiet grin returning to his face as he savored this confirmation of his elevation in the Jedi hierarchy. He scooted a little closer to Qui-Gon and sat leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees as he prepared to listen.

For the next few hours there was an intense discussion of Obi-Wan’s new privileges and responsibilities, his understanding of those responsibilities and Qui-Gon’s expectations for his apprentice. In this new phase of his apprenticeship, Obi-Wan had more freedom but was also expected to begin taking on more responsibility, working as more of a junior partner than a student. They discussed the academic requirements that Obi-Wan still needed to fulfill and the sorts of changes that he might expect in his role on future missions. They also talked about some of the independent assignments that Obi-Wan would be getting, such as instructing, working in the Creche and serving as staff on initiate and junior padawan trips.

“Whew,” breathed Obi-Wan, leaning back on the couch and stretching. “I never realized just how much it really means to move up to Senior.” He shook his head wonderingly, both pleased with his new freedoms and a little concerned about the new expectations.

“I am sure you will do well, Padawan,” replied Qui-Gon. He handed over the datapad. “I believe I have captured most of what you need in this datapad, and I’ve included several references for additional information. If you have any questions, of course, you can always discuss them with me.”

“Thank you, Master. This has been a very useful discussion, and I appreciate your help.” His gray eyes shone bluer with happiness. “I’m looking forward to the challenge, Master.”

“There is one other thing, Padawan,” said Qui-Gon, a bit hesitantly.

Obi-Wan looked up from the datapad in surprise. There was an uncharacteristic shyness in his master’s voice.

“Yes, Master?”

“I know it is traditional for the padawan to choose his own stone to add to his braid on this occasion, but, if you would. . . .“ Qui-Gon stopped again, looking a bit embarrassed.

Obi-Wan was quite intrigued by now, wondering what could possibly be bothering his normally composed master.

Qui-Gon dug into his tunic pocket and pulled out a small box. He continued in a soft voice, “I don’t want to unduly influence your decision, but if you would at least consider this offering in your choices, I would be honored, Obi-Wan.” He offered the box to his apprentice.

Carefully removing the plain wooden box from the large palm, Obi-Wan opened it. Nestled in white synthsilk was a brilliant, dark blue oval gemstone with a hole slightly off center. It shone warmly in the soft light. The apprentice stared at it, speechless.

“My master and I made it when I was promoted to Senior,” said Qui-Gon diffidently. “I thought, perhaps, you might like it.”

“It’s beautiful, Master,” said Obi-Wan reverently, cradling the box in both hands as he slid off the couch onto his knees. “I could not have found anything more perfect.” He looked up at Qui-Gon. “I am the one who would be honored to wear it. Thank you, Master.”

“You are welcome, Obi-Wan,” said Qui-Gon, looking pleased and a bit flushed.

Loosening the tie on the end of his braid, Obi-Wan unplaited the last few inches. He offered the box back to Qui-Gon. “I would be proud to wear your stone, Master, and even more honored if you would add it yourself.”

Sure hands took the stone from its nest, threaded it onto the braid and lovingly replaited the braid, tying off the end with the strip of leather. Placing the braid down, he patted it briefly, the blue stone gleaming in its place of honor. “Thank you, Obi-Wan,” said Qui-Gon softly, his blue eyes also gleaming suspiciously.

Obi-Wan smiled proudly. “Thank *you*, Master, for everything.”

“Well, it’s getting late, Senior Padawan Kenobi,” said Qui-Gon gruffly, a mock frown on his face. “I think it’s about time I should be going to bed.”

“Yes, Master Jinn,” said Obi-Wan, jumping up and bowing to Qui-Gon, a big grin spreading from cheek to cheek.

Later, lying in bed, Obi-Wan fingered the smooth new stone in his braid and smiled again, suspecting that he looked like a foolish initiate and not caring at all. That night he slept deep and dreamless for the most untroubled night he had had in months.

 

************************* *********************

 

At precisely fifteen minutes before fifth hour Obi-Wan was awakened by an insistent chime at the front door. Throwing on his night robe, he stumbled blearily to the door. Standing outside was a sharply turned out knight with the red tabard and gold insignia of the Master at Arms office, the Temple’s internal police force.

“Whacha want?” mumbled Obi-Wan through a huge yawn, staring uneasily at this apparition.

“I am here to escort Master Jinn,” the knight enunciated in prim tones.

“Huh?”

Before the knight could reply, Qui-Gon came out of his room, fully dressed. “Padawan, I’m sorry you were disturbed. You can go back to sleep if you like. I will be back after seventh hour.” He took his robe from its hook by the door and put it on. “If you get up before I return, go ahead and have breakfast, then start on today’s katas and drills.”

“Yes, Master,” said Obi-Wan automatically. As Qui-Gon fell in place beside the knight, Obi-Wan woke up enough to call out. “Hey, wait a minute. What’s going on?”

“Your Master requires a disciplinary escort to and from his guided meditation session,” interjected the knight coldly. “It is none of your concern, Padawan.” He turned to Qui-Gon. “We must leave now if we are to arrive on time, Master Jinn.”

“Of course,” said Qui-Gon graciously. “I’ll see you later, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan stared at the closed door blankly for several moments as he remembered the terms of the disciplinary actions that the Council had thrown at his master. He finally wandered back to his room but he was so aggravated at the whole situation that he couldn’t sleep, and it soured what should have been a welcome homecoming. Despite Qui-Gon’s words to him earlier, he couldn’t help feeling that it was somehow his fault.

That first morning set the tone for most of the next tenday until academic classes started. Obi-Wan was happy to be back at the Temple; having his Force connection back and being promoted to Senior status should have been enough to make him ecstatic. His happiness was tempered, however, by several things. His conviction that he was at least partially at fault for his master’s restrictions made him feel guilty, especially when he left their quarters to go anywhere. He worked diligently at the Force and shielding exercises, but was irritated by the frequent visits to the Healers Ward, a place he had never liked in the first place. He was still not sleeping well most nights, and was beginning to have problems sorting out a growing conflict between his feelings for his master and his feelings about his body.

It had been many years since the apprentice’s feelings for his master had gone from infatuation to devotion, a love based on affection, respect and a healthy dose of lust. Obi-Wan had his share of normal hormonal urges growing up, but it was usually to fantasies of Qui-Gon’s hands and body that he had masturbated. His feelings were deep enough that he had developed the self-discipline to wait, putting off experimenting with his peers, saving himself as he made his plans to seek Qui-Gon as his guide to sexual awakening. Coming back to the Temple again, living once more in close proximity, he quickly realized that those feelings for his Master were just as strong as ever and for the last year there had been a number of small hints and indications that made him hopeful those feelings were returned. Doing something about those feelings, however, was becoming unexpectedly difficult since that disastrous twenty-first birthday.

Growing up in the creche and initiate dorms, sharing communal showers for as long as he could remember, Obi-Wan had certainly never had any false modesty about his body. He normally slept in just a pair of shorts and had been on his share of missions where a few tasteful ornaments were the acceptable attire. Since leaving Junmek, however, he had developed a sudden shyness about being seen naked, about close contact and touching himself. His first night back he had dug through his closet until he found the issue pajamas buried there and began sleeping in those, telling himself he was tired of being cold at night. The fourth day back Obi-Wan went to the training salle to start working on katas again; afterward he sat on the bench in the locker room in his sweaty workout clothes for almost twenty minutes, listening to the easy horseplay and conversation from the shower, before he abruptly grabbed his gear and almost ran back to his quarters. That first time he told himself he needed to get back in time to prepare latemeal, but after the third time it happened he stopped making excuses and simply started going straight from the salles to his quarters.

By the time classes started, Obi-Wan Kenobi was beginning to turn into a withdrawn, morose version of his normal self. He felt guilty and irritated again with the Council after he found out that on top of being restricted, his master had been assigned to teach four of what were generally considered the least desirable remedial classes. His own course schedule was fine, but now that several of his friends were back in Temple and he began taking some meals in the dining hall, Obi-Wan found that the well intentioned congratulations on his promotion almost inevitably included questions and pity about his imprisonment on Junmek, a topic he was heartily sick of. He found he still had a tendency to wolf his food down in less than ten minutes, which drew stares and questions, and his avoidance of the locker room was starting to be noticed. To top things off, once the Healers were satisfied that he was making satisfactory progress with his shielding skills, they had begun focusing their sessions on discussions of his Junmek experiences; so far they had only made it as far as his initial capture and trial, but Obi-Wan was already having to force himself to attend his appointments, dreading the inevitable sessions dealing with what happened after Maogg subdued him. As time went by, he found that his emotional desires for his master were starting to become tainted by his increasing feelings of distance from his body; he knew he still loved Qui-Gon but his growing self-doubts were beginning to make him feel less worthy of being loved in return.

The start of the academic term imposed a new routine on the life of both master and padawan. In the mornings both men meditated and had breakfast together, then Qui-Gon taught while Obi-Wan attended his own classes. After lunch they worked on katas or sparring for a few hours. This was usually Obi-Wan’s favorite part of the day because he could lose himself in the physical exertion and concentration and felt especially close to his master. Late afternoons and evenings were devoted to class preparations or homework respectively, except that every other day Obi-Wan had his sessions with the Healers.

For a while Obi-Wan stayed busy enough that he could ignore the growing conflicts in his feelings. Unfortunately, Healer Nolspaq had reached a point in their discussions where they had to begin dealing with what had happened after he submitted to Maogg; although supportive and sympathetic, she was also relentless in refusing to allow the young man to deny that there were any aftereffects. They had been dancing around the subject for almost two full tendays before Obi-Wan finally began to admit the extent of the violation and humiliation he had felt. What he did not tell her was about the dreams he had begun having. He kept seeing himself in his quarters at the Temple on his twenty-first birthday; after a romantic meal, he was finally going to make love to Qui-Gon. One moment they would be in Qui-Gon’s bed, the next Obi-Wan was on his hands and knees in the prison cell with Qui-Gon behind him, except Qui-Gon’s face turned into Maogg’s, and he relived the whole public rape, including his own ejaculation. At the end of the dream he lay there with Maogg’s cock still in his ass, his own seed hot on his belly, and Qui-Gon was standing outside the cell, looking at him with disgust before he turned and walked away. It was usually at that point he would wake up, shaking and sweating. Sometimes he woke up screaming, which would bring Qui-Gon in to check on him, but he was too ashamed to tell his Master what was wrong. Qui-Gon’s well-intentioned questions just made the young man become surly.

The situation continued to worsen over the next month. Obi-Wan was finally able to discuss some of his feelings with Healer Nolspaq about how debased he had and still felt, how the loss of control still seared him, but he could not get past the feeling that it was somehow his fault, that he had become used and unclean. It became more and more difficult to force himself to attend the sessions with the healers as the topics became increasingly painful. He was not sleeping at all well, he could not focus on his work, and the dreams began to get worse.

Qui-Gon tried to help, but after the evening meal when Obi-Wan looked up and almost choked because he saw Maogg’s blue eyes looking at him the apprentice began to avoid situations where he was alone with his Master.

“Padawan, are you having problems in your classes?” Qui-Gon asked mildly.

“No more so than usual, Master,” Obi-Wan replied absently, drying his hands after the latemeal cleanup.

“I’ve had messages from some of your instructors,” Qui-Gon said. “They are concerned that your homework does not seem to be up to your usual standards.”

“I’ll take care of it, Master.”

“If you are having any problems, you know you can always come to me, Padawan.”

“Of course, Master.” Obi-Wan shrugged loose from the hand his master tried to put on his shoulder. “I’ll be at the library all evening, Master. Please don’t wait up.”

“Obi-Wan, if you need help. . . .“ Qui-Gon’s words trailed off as he stood in the doorway, helplessly watching as his apprentice hurried down the corridor he was forbidden to traverse. The hand he had half raised fell to his side. After a long moment, he sighed, then turned back inside with slow, heavy steps, his eyes downcast.

Obi-Wan shamelessly used the despised restriction to escape to the library or the gardens where Qui-Gon was not allowed to follow, hiding as he nursed his pain in silence, shielding the training bond as heavily as he could, knowing that his increasingly obvious rejection was hurting Qui-Gon. As complaints from Obi-Wan’s instructors multiplied, the apprentice began spending more time away from their quarters to avoid his master’s questions and increasingly pointed lectures, often stopping by the dining hall only long enough to grab food to take with him to the gardens. He cared less and less about his personal appearance, preferring to skip showers and wear the same clothes if it meant less time he had to spend in his quarters, resentfully enduring Qui-Gon’s attempts to provide help and correction.

Obi-Wan was still helplessly in love with his master and, with one part of his being, wanted him desperately. By now, though, his self loathing had grown to the point that he had not only become convinced that Qui-Gon could not possibly want him after Maogg had used him so thoroughly, but he began to doubt whether or not he himself could let his beloved master touch him in the ways that Maogg had touched him. Even in their private shower he could barely stand to touch himself long enough to get clean, and just the thought of masturbating was beginning to make him nauseous.

Events finally came to a head after midterm exams. Both Healer Nolspaq and v’braa had begun attending the sessions as they became more difficult. Several times Obi-Wan had tried unsuccessfully to describe the events dealing with the warden and Maogg; by now all three were becoming frustrated with the lack of progress. The apprentice’s academic and training work were falling off noticeably; he was becoming brusque and surly with almost everyone. The trickle of complaining messages to the apprentice’s master was rapidly becoming a stream and even Qui-Gon’s sternest lectures just seemed to slide off the self-absorbed young man unheeded. The dreams had started to become so intense that he sometimes felt as if Maogg was in his bed, still fucking him, and he was becoming physically run down from the lack of proper sleep.

One afternoon Obi-Wan was hiding in one of the outer gardens, ostensibly studying but in reality simply dozing apathetically under a tree. His comm chirped at him several times during the afternoon but he ignored it. He also ignored the tall dark figure that came striding up the path to stand before him.

“Padawan.”

“Master?”

“Get up.”

“Please, just leave me alone. I don’t feel like talking.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes and turned away.

Two large hands reached down, grabbed the apprentice by the neck of his tunics and the seat of his leggings, then hauled him none too gently to his feet.

“Ow,” yelped the apprentice, readjusting his leggings where they had so abruptly ridden up into his crotch and ass.

“You will come with me, Padawan.”

“But, Master, you aren’t supposed to be out here, and I don’t want –“ Obi-Wan started to whine.

A hand snaked out to grab the dangling braid and the apprentice found himself nose to nose with an enraged Jedi master. He gulped as he stared up into steel blue eyes. Qui-Gon was so close the apprentice felt like the icy wave of anger his master so seldom unleashed was reaching across the small space to freeze his guts. Obi-Wan could see the clenched jaw muscles and flared nostrils, feel the hot breath, and his nerves tingled as the gritting of teeth sounded in the dead silence. For one desperate second he thought Qui-Gon would even strike him as a large hand clenched in a white-knuckled fist before falling back and relaxing.

“Now, Padawan.”

Qui-Gon released the braid so suddenly Obi-Wan almost fell on his ass. The master turned on his heel and stalked away with long strides as his padawan scrambled to keep up. The trip back to their quarters was a silent one. Once inside, Obi-Wan stood silently in the center of the common room, gaze fixed sullenly on the floor, as Qui-Gon paced for several minutes.

Qui-Gon finally stopped in front of his apprentice and looked him over, starting at the scuffed boots, wrinkled leggings, dirty tunics, crooked braid, and up to the shadowed, bloodshot eyes.

“Senior Padawan Kenobi,” he said flatly, drawing out each word.

“Yes, Master,” replied Obi-Wan as he winced. ~ Sithspit, he sounds incredibly pissed. ~

“I spent almost an hour in a rather one sided conversation with the Padawan Review Board this afternoon,” said Qui-Gon in that same flat tone.

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan licked suddenly dry lips as he snatched a furtive glance at his master’s grim visage.

“I wouldn’t need to be telling you what they said if a certain *Senior Padawan* had bothered to answer his comm so he could attend in person,” said Qui-Gon, disgust evident in his drawled emphasis.

A sharply inhaled breath left Obi-Wan momentarily speechless, his attention now firmly on the situation at hand. “I. . .uh. . .I’m sorry, Master.” As Qui-Gon stepped into his apprentice’s personal space, the temperature of the room seemed to drop twenty degrees and Obi-Wan shivered. ~ Force, this has gone way beyond Qui-Gon being pissed off if the PRB is involved. What have I got myself into? ~ The apprentice could almost smell the anger radiating from his master’s body as Qui-Gon towered over him.

“The Board was quite concerned over your recent behavior and a rather precipitous drop in performance, particularly coming as it does on the heels of your promotion. Would you like to know what they were particularly concerned about?” asked Qui-Gon in a soft, dangerous voice, almost body to body with his apprentice.

“Yes, Master, I guess so.” Obi-Wan found the scuffed toes of his boots to be suddenly of intense interest.

“I should think so,” snapped Qui-Gon as he stepped back, hands on his hips. “You would know, if you would have bothered to listen to anything I’ve tried to tell you for the last few tendays, that there have been a large number of complaints from your instructors that you have become moody and withdrawn in class, that the quality of your contributions in class has decreased, and that you have not been keeping up with the course work. Were you aware that you received less than a passing score on three of your four mid course exams?”

“No, Master. We haven’t gotten the results back yet. I’m sorry, Master.” The chunk of lead growing in his stomach abruptly doubled in size.

“The Healers have also reported that there has been a distinct lack of progress recently in your therapy. Padawan, is it true that you did not show up for your last three appointments?”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard and had to try twice to get the words out. “Uh. . .yes, Master. . .it’s true.”

“And is it also true that you have been skipping classes? And not telling me?”

“Master. . . .“

“Is it true or not?” snapped Qui-Gon.

“I. . .it was only a few classes . . .,” muttered Obi-Wan weakly. “I’m sorry, Master.” ~ Please, Force, just let me die now. ~

“This is a very serious matter, Padawan. I’m not sure you realize just how far beyond ‘I’m sorry’ it has gone.”

Silence as the apprentice bit his lower lip and continued to stare at his boots. His breathing was ragged and he could feel his pulse racing.

Qui-Gon pulled a datapad from his tunic and thrust it at Obi-Wan, who reached out instinctively to grab it. “The Review Board has issued you a Notice of Deficiencies, Padawan.”

A spot of red burned in each suddenly pale cheek. Obi-Wan looked at the datapad, then up at his Master, fighting back the sting of tears. “No, not an ND. . . ,“ he whispered.

“Oh yes. The infamous ND, last step before demotions and dismissals. Read it carefully, Padawan, there’s quite a bit in there. You’ve gone downhill so far and so fast from where you were that they didn’t bother with a Notice of Counseling. The Board is so concerned about your drop in performance, in fact, that they discussed immediately revoking your promotion if you can not explain and correct the deficiencies,” said Qui-Gon sternly. “Much as it pains me, Padawan, I have to admit that with the lack of effort you have shown in our training sessions, and your whole attitude since we got back from Junmek, I had great difficulty defending you, and I’m not entirely certain that I should disagree with their decision.”

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in as Obi-Wan stared at his master, speechless. Then, as if he had been kicked in the gut, Obi-Wan began shaking, struggling to stay upright, hugging his arms close. “I’m sorry, Master,” he choked out in a low, hoarse voice. “I’m sorry.” He felt like he was trapped in one of his dreams, blood pounding in his head as he was taken, and any moment the master who had been so proud of him would see him for the disgusting creature he really was and turn away.

Qui-Gon looked at the miserable figure trembling before him. He sighed as his expression softened. His eyes were sad as he said softly, “Padawan, beyond anything else that you have done, there is one thing that has disappointed me most of all.”

“M’mmaster?” stammered out the apprentice as a tear escaped from under his hot eyelids. The metallic tang of blood in his mouth from his bitten lip reminded him all too vividly of the beatings in prison. Inside his head, his brain was starting to babble. ~ Force, oh please, don’t leave, please, don’t send me away, please, please don’t turn away, no, please ~

“Padawan, I have watched you change since we came back from Junmek, I know you have been having problems dealing with what happened. But to watch you in pain, and to be shut out, to be pushed away, that is worse than anything any board or even the Council could do to me.” Hands at his side, shoulders slumped, there was a catch in his voice as he continued. “When you will not let me help you, my Obi-Wan, that hurts the worst of all.”

That was the final blow for the distraught apprentice. The dam of pent-up emotions burst and Obi-Wan fell to his knees, doubled over, rambling incoherently, alternately begging his master to stay, to not send him away and apologizing over and over. Qui-Gon knelt down and gathered the shaking young man into his arms as the pleas turned to painful wracking sobs, after a moment sliding them both over so he could sit on the floor, leaning back against the old couch, Obi-Wan’s face buried in his shoulder. They stayed there as the afternoon shadows lengthened, Qui-Gon holding his apprentice, slowly stroking his head and back, letting the emotions run, shielding them both from the blasts of hurt and shame pouring over their bond. Obi-Wan clutched his master’s form, his anchor in the storm of emotions that relentlessly battered him.

As all storms do, even this one eventually ran its course. Shaking became trembling, then an occasional tremor. Sobs diluted to quiet tears, washing away walls of silence. Frantic stranglehold around sturdy ribs became tentative embrace. Finally, there was exhausted stillness.

Obi-Wan twisted and slid down so he was sitting side by side with his master, his head hanging down. Qui-Gon’s right arm rested across the younger man’s shoulders, thumb gently rubbing small circles. With his left hand, the master pulled off his soaked tabard; with a crooked smile he offered it to his apprentice.

“Go ahead, it’s already wet,” he said softly.

Flushing, the embarrassed padawan nonetheless took the offered cloth and proceeded to thoroughly blow his nose, then found a dry spot to wipe his face before folding it and setting it aside.

“Thank you, Master,” said Obi-Wan in a low, hoarse voice.

“You’re welcome.”

It was still in the dim room as Obi-Wan hesitantly settled into the large body. Qui-Gon was careful not to push, letting the young man find his own level of ease. Grateful for the unconditional welcome, Obi-Wan quieted, snuggling a little closer, surprised and relieved at how good it felt to be able to finally let go and be comforted.

“Master?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’ve not handled things very well, Master. I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

“It was a very difficult experience you went through, Obi-Wan. A lot of knights and masters would have had problems.”

“That’s what people keep telling me, but at least they would have tried harder to resolve things,” said Obi-Wan despondently. “It’s just. . .it’s all so complicated, and I don’t know what to do any more.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Qui-Gon gently.

The apprentice swallowed, then looked up. “I’d like that, Master.”

“Could I ask a favor first?”

“Of course, Master,” replied Obi-Wan.

“Would you mind terribly if we sat on the couch instead of the floor?” asked Qui-Gon with a wry smile. “I’m afraid my butt went numb a good half hour ago.”

 

**************** ****************

 

After recovering from the involuntary snort induced by Qui-Gon’s offhand comment and a poke in the ribs, Obi-Wan offered to make tea while his master walked about a bit. Comfortably ensconced back on the couch, they sat in companionable silence for a while in the dim lights as they sipped their tea. Eventually, Obi-Wan set his cup aside and sighed.

“I think that perhaps I should start at the beginning,” he said quietly, looking straight ahead.

“That is often a good place to start,” his master quietly affirmed.

Obi-Wan hesitated, then shyly reached out to take Qui-Gon’s unresisting hand into his own. He looked down at the joined hands as he continued, absently tracing the lines on the large callused palm with his fingers.

“Before we went to Junmek, I had been thinking about relationships, especially our relationship, for a long time, Master. I had always felt a need for someone special, someone I respected, someone I loved. For a long time I couldn’t find the right person so I wasn’t doing a lot of the experimenting my friends were doing. It. . .well, it just didn’t feel right.” Obi-Wan paused, thinking. “When I did find the right person, I was uncertain, unsure of myself, if I was worthy of them, unsure of whether they could even think of me as I wanted to think of them. So I waited, worked on getting to know that person even better and proving myself worthy. In my heart, I became convinced that this was the right one, the one I wanted to share my life with. I had planned to ask them to be my lover on my twenty-first birthday.”

“But your birthday wasn’t until –“ Qui-Gon stopped abruptly. His hand tightened around the other man’s as he softly continued. “Obi-Wan, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. . . . I mean, how much worse it must have been. . . .“

“Didn’t realize I was a virgin when I went into that place?” said Obi-Wan deliberately, although a blush was on his cheeks. “There was no reason you should have known since we had never discussed it. It was true, though.”

Qui-Gon looked down slowly, his gaze traveling from his apprentice’s face to their joined hands. “Have you talked to this. . . other person since you’ve been back?” he asked, deep burr unconsciously intruding, hesitant note of caution darkening both eyes and voice.

Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment. “It was you, Master,” he said quietly.

Qui-Gon was silent in turn, his hand still in Obi-Wan’s. He swallowed hard, as if something was caught in his throat. “I’ve thought about this moment happening some day, but now that it’s here, I’m not sure what to say,” he finally admitted ruefully.

“I’ve loved you for many years, Master,” said Obi-Wan, turning his face to look into Qui-Gon’s eyes. “At first it was just respect and admiration, but the longer I knew you, came to know what was inside you, the more I realized that it was you I had been looking for all along. I felt connected to you, emotionally and physically. I wanted you to be my first, my only lover.” He paused, then asked softly, “What would you have said, Master?”

“I would have said that my heart has been yours to command for many years, my Obi-Wan,” replied Qui-Gon slowly, his voice rough with emotion. “I have watched you grow into a fine young man, been proud of your accomplishments, but somewhere along the way admiration changed to desire, affection to love. I had hopes I could not share, and I wished often we could be even more than teacher and student, but my responsibilities as your master did not allow me to speak of those things.” He took both of Obi-Wan’s hands in his and squeezed lightly. “We both still have duties and responsibilities as master and padawan, for we are Jedi first, but if there is any way I can be more for you I will.”

Obi-Wan turned his face away, looking down at their linked hands for several moments. He sighed heavily, pulled away and slid further along the couch. Holding his head in his hands, he whispered, “I wish it were still that easy.”

Keeping very still, Qui-Gon said gently, “Please, let me help.”

Jumping up, Obi-Wan began restlessly pacing around the room. “You don’t understand, Master. The things that happened in there, the things I did. . . .“

“Help me to understand, Obi-Wan. Help me help you,” in that same quiet voice.

Aimlessly waving a hand, the apprentice began speaking. “The first month I was in there was bad enough. Locked in that cell almost all the time, always watching my back, fighting off every new son of a bantha they kept putting in there, every day listening to all the nasty things they said to me, about me, what they going to do to me. I wasn’t going to give in, not without taking as many of them with me as I could, but it was hard. I didn’t know what had happened to you, I couldn’t feel the Force, I couldn’t sleep or meditate. . . I was getting tired and I knew it wouldn’t be too much longer until they won. . . . “

Obi-Wan stopped in his wandering for a moment to look out the windows. “Then they put Maogg in there.” He turned around and looked at Qui-Gon. “You know, Master, I do understand that the man probably saved my life and he did get me out of that prison, and I do understand that, from his point of view, most of what he did was no different than how he would have treated one of his own people and he saw nothing wrong with it.” He looked down. “But I wasn’t one of them, and it felt wrong, it was awful and I still hate him, I hate that place. . .and I despise myself for the things I did in that place.”

He started pacing again. “They put Maogg in the cell, and he proceeded to ‘establish ownership’, as he thought of it,” said the apprentice with a grimace. “I will say he certainly knew what he was doing. He didn’t just beat me into submission; no, I might have been able to handle that, I think. He did just enough to put himself in charge, then he put me in situations where I had to make choices.” He stopped again, all the way across the room. “I had a choice, Master. I didn’t have to let him fuck me, but I wasn’t strong enough.” His voice dropped. “I went crawling to him, I submitted to him, I *gave* him control.” Once more he began to pace.

“The only other choice you thought you had was to die, Padawan,” said Qui-Gon quietly. “No one expected you to let yourself die if there was any way to survive.”

“It may have been surviving, but it wasn’t living,” spat out the apprentice. “From that point on, he owned me, and we both knew it.” He stopped by the rear of the couch, resting his hands on the back of it. There was a distant look on his face. “I had a lot of plans, Master, a lot of dreams about how wonderful my twenty-first birthday was going to be. Foolish dreams, perhaps,” he gave a small laugh, “but they were my dreams. You had agreed to be mine, and I fixed you a candlelight feast. We were going to spend hours just learning each other, and we were going to make love. Real love, like you read about, and it was going to be warm and soft and so beautiful.” He leaned down, resting his weight on his forearms. “But do you know how I actually spent my twenty-first birthday?”

He leaned in even closer, not waiting for a reply, voice rough and tight. “I spent that day being fixed up like the pretty little virgin sacrifice I was about to become, getting cleaned up, having my cock tied at attention, then being put down on my hands and knees in a cold prison cell in front of a bunch of a leering guards. They were cheering him on, breaking in his Jedi bitch, as that bastard stuffed his cock up my ass, in and out, he kept pulling almost out and he’d shove it back it in, I could feel him, every inch of him, then he reached around and he took my cock, and I was caught between that cock driving into me and his hand driving me crazy, and every time he pushed that cock up my ass a little bit more of my dream died, until finally we both came and I was lying there in my own semen. . . .“ The urgent voice finally stilled. Breathing ragged, Obi-Wan looked into his Master’s eyes and whispered, “I wanted to die, but all I could do was lay there with his come leaking out of my ass and cry. That’s what I still dream about almost every night.”

Breaking their contact before Qui-Gon could reply, Obi-Wan sprang away, prowling about the room restlessly yet again. “That was just the start, of course. I was his property, his Jedi bitch. Everyone knew it; I could see it in their eyes. Even the other bitches despised me. Maogg did his part of the bargain, as he saw it. He kept me fed, worked me hard to get in shape, but he made sure I toed the line, jumped to his orders, stayed in my place.” He paused, shuddered. “It was worse after the warden came. He wanted rape, and that’s what he got. He raped my mind with that picture and the lightsabers. I was convinced you were dead, Master. Then Maogg raped my body. That was the night I almost let go.”

He looked at Qui-Gon. “The only reason I stayed was for your sake, for everything you had trained me to be. Because Maogg had told me how proud of me you were.”

Obi-Wan turned away and resumed his journey. “I did survive until we escaped, but that’s all it was, surviving. I was a possession, I existed to serve Maogg and provide entertainment for the warden and the guards. It was so bad that I would work hard for the little bits of kindness that Maogg would throw my way because those were the only times I felt human, even though I loathed myself for wanting it.” He grimaced. “Maogg fucked me whenever he felt like it, which was often. At night I would have to sleep naked with him behind me and I could feel his cock against or in my ass, almost like it had a life of its own. After a while I was grateful he always fucked me from behind; it got so I couldn’t stand to look at his eyes because they reminded me too much of you and everything I thought I’d lost.”

Obi-Wan came to a stop, standing in front of Qui-Gon. His hands were clenched at his side, he trembled and his voice shook. “Don’t you see, Master? It can never be like it might have been because I’m not the same person you knew before I went in there. They used me, they broke me, the best parts of me are gone, just like that bastard took what I had saved for you. You’ve seen how badly I’ve handled things since we got back, I’ve just been running away from my own head, and I’ve let you down in my training, my classes, as a person. I hurt you because I can’t stand myself and I feel so dirty, how can I expect you to still want me?”

The evening air hung still and heavy. The faint, ever present hum of traffic from the skylanes could be heard in between the apprentice’s ragged breaths.

“Obi-Wan, what I see is a young man, a Jedi apprentice, my padawan, who has been hurt and needs help,” said Qui-Gon gently but firmly. “The best of you is still here, because you took everything they could do and came back. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I can magically make it stop hurting; but I will tell you that I am here for you and I will help you to heal, however long that takes.” He held out a hand. “And I still want you, if you’ll have me, if you’ll let me, because I love you, my Obi-Wan.”

“I. . .can’t . . . .” The fearful whisper died.

Qui-Gon did not move, did not speak. His hand remained outstretched, waiting. A small warmth seeped through their bond, inviting, asking.

Gray bloodshot eyes looked at the lifeline being held out before him. The tip of his tongue sneaked through parted lips to wet his upper lip. One hand slowly raised, tentative, uncertain. Fingertips grazed fingertips, then palms collided, grip tightening. Gray eyes looked into blue as the apprentice slowly lowered his body, drawn to his Master’s embrace, a battered ship seeking safe harbor. At last nestled safe against the warm body, long arms protecting him from further harm, he let himself relax.

“Master, I’m sorry I made such a mess of everything.”

“Don’t worry about any of that, Padawan. Time enough to start sorting things out later.”

Eyes closed.

Two hearts beating, seeking, settling into a shared rhythm.

Breathing gradually slowed and deepened.

Gentle warmth of shared feeling between two minds.

“Qui-Gon?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan?”

A little smile. “Just wanted to say it,” he whispered as he drifted into a light doze.

“I love you, too.”

 

******************* **********************

 

“Breathe, Padawan,” said Qui-Gon with an amused glint in his eye, “or you won’t even make it into the meeting, let alone be able to talk.”

“It’s not funny, Master,” said Obi-Wan, his voice almost breaking in his nervousness. He clutched the datapad with the dreaded Notice of Deficiencies in a sweaty hand as he paced back and forth in the waiting room. NDs were usually the precursor to major probations, demotions and even dismissals, and the apprentice was still coming to terms with just how very much he didn’t want to end up in that latter group.

“Of course it’s not,” replied Qui-Gon. “I’m sorry.” He rose to stand in front of his apprentice, stopping him long enough to make a few last minute adjustments in his tunics. “Don’t worry. Just be sincere, explain the situation, tell them how you are going to make amends, and they will probably be reasonable.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan stepped over to make a final check in the mirror. Formal whites, creases razor sharp, boots polished to blinding brilliance, not a hair out of place. He glanced down at the end of his freshly plaited braid, raising a hand to touch the now empty spot where the blue gemstone had been. A large hand covered the smaller hand and braid, lightly squeezing.

“It will be alright,” said Qui-Gon quietly. “I will keep it safe for you until you win it back.”

Obi-Wan looked up into the dark blue eyes, drawing strength from their confidence. “Thank you, Master.” He drew a deep breath to calm himself. Both he and his master had been very busy since he woke up snuggled into Qui-Gon’s side the previous evening. After a quick meal, they had reviewed the situation. Obi-Wan was dismayed to find, buried in two days of unread mail, the notice to appear before the Padawan Review Board, so it now looked like he had ignored them twice. While he was busy reading through the long list of complaints and shortcomings, Qui-Gon was busy calling in whatever favors and friends he had to get the Board to grant them this extra hearing before they finalized their decision on his apprentice’s status and sent it to the Council. The rest of the evening was spent discussing how Obi-Wan wanted to attack his problems as they shared the preparation of his best uniform and each took a boot to polish. They shared a final meditation before Qui-Gon helped his apprentice get to sleep with a Force suggestion. After their morning classes they had returned to their quarters so Obi-Wan could finish preparing for the hearing at the fourteenth hour. Just before they left for the meeting room, Qui-Gon replaited his padawan’s braid for him because his hands were shaking from nervousness. Obi-Wan took the final blue stone from its resting place on the table, holding it for a long moment, before wordlessly putting it back in its box and giving it to his master.

The opening of the double doors drew their attention. A knight stepped into the waiting room and announced that the Board would see them now.

The reception was not particularly inviting as master and padawan walked quickly to the center of the room. The fifteen masters and knights of the Padawan Review Board sat at a semicircular table. The chairman, Master Ch’tor, a wizened yellow skinned Kenvertan, sat in the middle. Two Council members, Adi Gallia and Yaddle, had both opted to attend in their role as ex officio members.

“Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi,” said Master Ch’tor in a chilly voice. Master and padawan bowed. The chairman continued, “We have granted this request for an additional hearing because of the unusual seriousness of the situation. Do you have new evidence we should consider in this matter, Master Jinn?”

Qui-Gon bowed again. “We appreciate your consideration in this matter and thank you for your indulgence. It is indeed a very serious situation, but before we begin Padawan Kenobi would like to address the Board, with your permission.”

The chairman’s black eyes swept briefly around the group before returning to rest on the padawan. Before speaking, he looked him over from head to toe as if examining a rather unsavory specimen under a microscope. “Very well,” snapped the chairman curtly.

Obi-Wan stepped forward and bowed. “Master Ch’tor, Council members, and members of the Board, thank you for providing this opportunity. I understand the seriousness of the situation and the necessity for your actions, and I wish to apologize for not attending the hearing to which I was previously summoned. There are reasons but no excuses for that behavior; it is the reasons I wish to explain today. First, however, please accept my humblest apologies for my disrespect and any inconvenience I have caused for the Board.” Obi-Wan prostrated himself before the board in the full position of penitence and waited, heart hammering as he awaited the reaction.

The room was silent for several moments. Finally the chairman spoke, “Apology is accepted.” He paused briefly before snarling, “Do sit up, Padawan. I can’t stand trying to talk to someone when their face is mashed into the floor.”

As Obi-Wan sat up to the kneeling position, he caught a brief flutter of smiles from several of the members. “Yes, Master Ch’tor. May I say something else before we proceed?”

“If you must. You’re not going to start crying and flopping about and throwing yourself on our mercy, are you?” asked the master suspiciously, fuzzy white eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “That sort of thing does get rather tiresome after a while, and I would not have allowed this hearing if that’s all you’re going to do.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head, trying to suppress a nervous smile. “No, Master Ch’tor. I just wanted to make it clear that everything that has happened since I’ve gotten back from Junmek is my own fault and I accept full responsibility for my actions. My master and others have tried to help and I wouldn’t let them; my problems should not in any way be a reflection on Master Jinn’s care and concern. I just wanted to get that on the record, sir.”

“Hmmpph,” snorted the old Master. “Well, that’s a better start than flopping about, I suppose. Did you put him up to that, Jinn?”

Obi-Wan started to protest, but was peremptorily waved to silence. “I’ll get back to *you* in a moment, Padawan.”

“No, Master Ch’tor. We did have a long discussion last night, but everything that he has to say today is from his own heart. I will say that I believe his repentance is sincere, and I stand fully with him to help in his recovery. I am only here today to ask that you please hear him out before you make your final decision.”

“Very well, then.” Thin bony digits tapped on a datapad. “Padawan Kenobi,” the Master said sharply.

“Yes, Master Ch’tor?”

“Since you are here, there are some questions that should have been answered yesterday.”

Obi-Wan bowed, silently accepting the rebuke. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you understand what it means to be a Senior Jedi Padawan?”

“I believe so, Master Ch’tor. My Master and I had a very thorough discussion after I was promoted. It is a significant responsibility.”

“Do you feel you have been conducting yourself as a Senior Padawan?”

“No, Master Ch’tor.”

The chairman paused. “I am going to open the discussion at this time to questions from all members.”

For the next thirty minutes, the apprentice was grilled with questions about his conduct, his understanding of various duties, any conflicts with others, whether he had been physically ill, difficulties in class, personal problems, his record prior to Junmek, problems with the Healers and so forth. Remaining on his knees, Obi-Wan tried to answer calmly and politely. He could feel the sweat gathering, then trickling down his face and back.

When the room was silent again, Master Ch’tor held up a hand. “If there are no more questions, I will sum up.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “Padawan Kenobi, the evidence that the board has before it says that you had an excellent record prior to your promotion. Since that time however, your conduct and performance has deteriorated remarkably swiftly. You are failing three of your four courses, your physical training has dropped below standard, you have failed to cooperate with your assigned therapy to help you recover from your last mission, you have been disrespectful to teachers and Healers, you have failed to comply with your own master’s attempts to help you. You have not met the standards expected of a junior padawan, let alone a senior. This record suggests that we made a mistake promoting you early to the status of senior. I will now turn the floor over to you to explain to us why we should not undo that mistake and put you on probation until you can return to at least the standards expected of a junior padawan.”

Obi-Wan drew a breath to collect himself before answering. “Thank you, Master Ch’tor, board members. The evidence that you have before you is true; my performance and conduct have not been acceptable. I admit that and apologize. This not an excuse but an explanation. When I returned from my last mission, I believed that I could handle the emotional and mental aftermath of the things that happened to me. I did not realize how deeply I was in denial and resented the assigned therapy sessions. Instead of acknowledging that I had problems, I was unwilling to deal with the pain and conflict, and began withdrawing even further. It was not until yesterday that I realized how serious the situation had become.” He gave a deprecating half smile and looked around at the Board members. “I suppose, in a way, that I should thank you for serving me with the Notice of Deficiencies. It certainly got my attention, and led to my master and I having an extensive discussion.”

He paused to swallow and take another deep breath. He looked up at Master Ch’tor. “I understand now that I have a problem that I cannot handle by myself. I need help, I *want* that help. I know it won’t be easy, but I will work hard to overcome my problems and return to the level of performance and conduct that you have the right to expect. All I am asking from the Board is to please let me have the opportunity to correct the mistakes I have made before you take permanent action.”

Wrinkled yellow face devoid of expression, the chairman considered the kneeling apprentice for a moment, then looked up at his Master. “Master Jinn, do you have anything else to add?”

Qui-Gon stepped up beside his apprentice.

“Obi-Wan has been a good padawan, and I believe he will be an excellent senior padawan. Obviously he has had a very difficult time recently, but he has made the most important step, which is to admit that he has a problem and ask for help. I too ask only that you give him the opportunity to let him prove that he is still a good padawan and can overcome this mistake.”

“Thank you, Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi. Please wait outside while we consider this matter.”

Obi-Wan gracefully rose to his feet; he and his master bowed to the group and left.

Both men sat down on the padded bench in the waiting room. Obi-Wan leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt numb after the intensive session.

“You did well, Padawan,” said his master quietly.

“You think so, Master?” replied Obi-Wan reflectively as he reached up to wipe the sweat from his face. “Master Ch’tor didn’t sound terribly encouraging.”

“This is Master Ch’tor’s third tour as chairman of the PRB,” said Qui-Gon with a smile. “I suppose he has seen just about every sort of problem that can come up. And lots of unhappy padawans ‘flopping about’, as he puts it.” He patted Obi-Wan’s knee. “Actually, they were relatively easy on you. From what I’ve heard, this particular group of Board members has driven a lot of junior and senior padawans to tears when they think they’re being put on or not taken seriously, so hopefully that means they understood that you meant all the things you said.”

“Yes, Master.” They sat together in silence as they waited.

Summoned back into the room, the two Jedi walked to the center again and bowed. Obi-Wan was surprised to see Healer Nolspaq sitting at one end of the table.

“Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi,” said Master Ch’tor. “Healer Nolspaq monitored your session at our request, and has been kind enough to give us her insights on the situation.” He nodded in her direction. “We have reached a decision. In view of your past record, your acceptance of responsibility for the situation and your willingness to take corrective action, your promotion to Senior Padawan is suspended, not revoked, and you are on temporary probation. There are just over two months until the end of your current academic term; we will be getting reports on your progress during that time and will review your situation after you have completed your final exams to determine whether to revoke the promotion and whether any additional probation is warranted. Do you have any questions?”

“Thank you, Master Ch’tor,” said Obi-Wan with a sigh of relief. “No, sir, I have no questions.”

“You have a great deal of work ahead of you to get back to a satisfactory status, Padawan Kenobi,” warned the chairman sternly. “We will be watching you very closely.”

“Yes, Master Ch’tor. I understand.”

“Very well, this closes this session. Thank you for your participation.”

Master and apprentice bowed, then turned and left. Outside in the hallway a few moments later, they heard a voice calling them.

“Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi.”

They stopped and turned. Healer Nolspaq was walking toward them.

“If you have a few minutes, I would like to speak to both of you, please.”

“Of course,” replied Qui-Gon courteously.

“Let’s go in this meeting room here,” she gestured to one of the small side rooms. After they were inside and seated, she continued. “Padawan Kenobi, I’ve missed seeing you.”

“Yes, Healer Nolspaq,” said Obi-Wan, flushing. “I’m sorry. I just. . .well, I was at a point I just couldn’t deal with having to talk about some of the things that happened.”

“I understand.” She turned to Qui-Gon. “Actually, I owe you an apology, Master Jinn. I should have notified you immediately when your padawan missed the first one or two sessions, but Healer v’braa wanted to try to contact Obi-Wan and get him to come back on his own. That won’t happen again.”

“Thank you for explaining. I was quite surprised when the Board hit me with that one yesterday.”

She nodded. “We are at an important point in your recovery, Obi-Wan. It is going to be very important that you come to all of your sessions and participate, but if there are some things that it is easier to talk to your master about, we can work with that. In fact, it may be better to have you in on some of the sessions, Master Jinn, since you are the one to whom he has opened up.”

“Certainly. I will do whatever I can to help.”

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. “Healer Nolspaq?” he said diffidently.

“Yes, Obi-Wan,” she said gently.

“Uh. . . there is something that I left out entirely in our sessions.” Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon, then back down to the table. “Since we returned from Junmek, I’ve been having dreams. That’s really why I haven’t been sleeping well and why I’ve been getting more tired the longer it has gone on.”

“Can you tell me about them?”

“Yes, Healer,” said Obi-Wan hesitantly.

“Obi-Wan,” said Qui-Gon softly.

“Yes, Master?”

“I think she needs to understand everything that is going on.” He paused as his apprentice flushed deeply and looked at him beseechingly. “There is nothing wrong with your feelings. She needs to know, and I don’t mind discussing the situation.” He reached over the table and offered a hand.

Obi-Wan bit his lip as he looked uncertainly from healer to master. Finally he reached out and took the offered hand, fingers carefully curling over the callused palm. He looked up under lowered eyelids.

“Obi-Wan, I’m here to help, not judge,” said the Healer gently. “If you have feelings for your master, there is nothing wrong with that.”

“Yes, Healer.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath, looked at Qui-Gon, then launched into an abbreviated version of the story he had poured out to his master the day before.

“So, if I understand things correctly,” said Healer Nolspaq thoughtfully, “you loved Qui-Gon before you went to Junmek, you went through the abuse in that prison, you still love Qui-Gon, but you feel that your experiences have made you unworthy of being loved? Aside from the way you feel about your body and being touched sexually?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan paused, blinking, “I guess I hadn’t thought of it quite like that, but that’s probably as good a way as any of putting it.”

“Master Jinn,” said the Healer, looking at the clasped hands, “how do you feel about all this?”

“I love Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said simply. “I want him, but I will not do anything to hurt him. The relationship will be whatever he is comfortable with, whenever he is comfortable with it.”

“Have you discussed how this may impact your relationship as master and padawan?”

“We have,” said Obi-Wan. “We both understand that our responsibilities as Jedi, my training, must come first.”

“Yes,” added Qui-Gon with a nod. “I’m sure there will be times when it won’t be easy, but we recognize that possibility and will have to work our way through it.”

The Healer leaned back in her seat and thought for a moment. “Obi-Wan, I think for the next tenday or so, we are going to take our discussion back to the point when you entered the prison on Junmek. With this new perspective and attitude, I’d like to go back, see if anything new develops, and work our way back to the point where you encountered the warden, since that was where we essentially stopped communicating.”

The apprentice nodded. “Yes, Healer Nolspaq, whatever you think best.”

“Master Jinn,” she said, leaning forward, arms on the table, “I think it would be helpful if you were present when we get into the difficult sessions, if you don’t mind. It may be easier for Obi-Wan to open up if you are there, and, in any event, it is tied to the feelings that you need to work out between you.”

“Of course,” said Qui-Gon, “just let me know when you want me there.”

“There is also the issue of the dreams,” the Healer continued. “You need to start getting more sleep, Obi-Wan, and it would be better if we don’t have to put you on sleeping drugs. For the short term, your master can help you with Force suggestions, but that is not a viable long term solution. I’m going to put together some recommendations for some meditation exercises I would like both of you to work on in the evenings and we will also work on the problem during your regular sessions. Do either of you have any questions of me at this point?”

Both men shook their heads.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Obi-Wan,” said the Healer briskly. “Good day, Master Jinn.”

The two Jedi sat there quietly, hands together, for several minutes after the healer left. Qui-Gon watched emotions chasing themselves across his apprentice’s face before it finally settled into a resigned expression. He tightened his grip a little.

“It will be alright, Obi-Wan,” said Qui-Gon softly.

Obi-Wan looked up somberly, then slowly smiled. “Yes, Master.” He paused, gave his master’s hand a squeeze, then stood up. “I think we’d better go, Master. I’ve got a lot of work to get back to ‘alright’.”

Qui-Gon smiled back. “Yes, Padawan.”

 

********************** ******************

 

The next tenday passed quickly. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan visited each of the apprentice’s instructors to set things right with each one and discuss the work the apprentice needed to do to get back on track. They spent an afternoon going over Obi-Wan’s progress in katas and lightsaber training and revising his projected training plan. Both men still had their normal workload and Obi-Wan was attending sessions with the Healers every other day in addition to his extra class work.

With Qui-Gon’s help, Obi-Wan began sleeping better, but still needed the Force suggestion to avoid the dreams. There were a few evenings when they both had reading to do and sat together on the couch, occasionally holding hands; toward the end of the evening Obi-Wan would finally relax enough to lean against his master’s side.

And every evening, without fail, there were the extra meditations, master leading apprentice in a gentle attunement of inner peace.

The lights were low, a candle flickering in the warm breeze from the open balcony. The silence was broken only by the slow breathing of the two meditating men.

Blue eyes slowly opened. As always, the sight of the young man facing him filled him with a pleasant glow. Where their knees touched, the contact sent a small frisson through his lower belly, a feeling he had been letting himself indulge in since the two men had brought their feelings for each other into the open. Qui-Gon sighed regretfully. He knew how important it was to maintain his self control and let his apprentice set the pace in their relationship, so he let the feeling go.

A deep breath signified the emergence of the apprentice from the meditation. There was a flicker over the training bond and a speculative look flashed across the gray eyes but the expression was serene. Obi-Wan took another deep breath as he rotated his shoulders.

“Master, I’ve been thinking.”

“Yes, Padawan?”

“I think it would help with the dreams if I slept in your bed.”

Qui-Gon’s heart skipped a beat. “Excuse me?”

“I believe that way we might be able to gradually do without the Force suggestion without you having to sit up by my bed half the night,” continued Obi-Wan in a matter of fact tone. “Your bed because it’s bigger, obviously. Of course, you would have to wear pajamas, and I would need the side nearest the door so I wouldn’t feel closed in.”

“Pajamas?”

“Yes, Master,” said Obi-Wan. “You know, pajamas? sleeping clothes?”

“Just because I don’t usually wear them doesn’t mean I don’t know what they are,” replied Qui-Gon with a touch of irritation.

“You do have some, don’t you?”

Qui-Gon, who normally only slept in his smallclothes or nothing, had to think a moment. “I suppose I must have the issue pair somewhere,” he muttered, one hand scratching absently at the back of his neck. Realizing that there were bigger questions at hand, he looked at his apprentice and demanded, “Wait a minute, what brought all this on?”

“Healer Nolspaq was concerned that I still need the Force suggestion to sleep. She suggested I try to think of some other way that I might be able to sleep without the dreams.” Obi-Wan looked up guilelessly. “Don’t you want me to sleep with you, Master?”

“What I want –“ exploded Qui-Gon, but the vision conjured up by that innocent question was ruthlessly throttled and stuffed back into his subconscious. He was a Jedi Master, he’d better be able to handle this or he may as well turn in his lightsaber. He drew a deep breath and started over again. “What I want, Padawan,” he said quietly, “is to help you. I am willing to give it a try. After all, we’ve certainly had to share a bed often enough on missions. Are the pajamas absolutely necessary, though?”

There was a bleak expression on Obi-Wan’s face. He looked away, blushing, as he answered, “Maogg slept naked after the first time he took me. I can’t, well. . . you know . . . .” His voice trailed off in embarrassment.

Qui-Gon was the one blushing now as he felt like a complete and thoughtless idiot, whining about a minor inconvenience. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, I wasn’t thinking. Why don’t you get ready for bed while I look for the pajamas?”

“Yes, Master.”

Later, Qui-Gon was lying in bed, hands behind his head. The issue pajamas he had finally dredged up at the back of a drawer felt strange and rough; if this was going to be a long term thing he hoped they would get more comfortable with wear.

The opening of the door caught his attention. Obi-Wan stood framed in the doorway for a long moment, his own pajamas hanging loosely. He had his pillow in one arm and a blanket in the other. Silently, he came in and placed the pillow on the side of the bed nearest the door. Pulling back the covers, he began putting his blanket down.

“I can adjust the temperature if it’s too cold, Padawan,” said Qui-Gon.

“No, Master, that’s all right. Actually, this is more for later on. You tend to kick the blankets off during the night and I wanted to make sure I still had one of my own.”

“Well, better to kick the blankets than your bed partner,” said Qui-Gon, letting the smile show in his voice.

“Master,” replied Obi-Wan indignantly, “I haven’t kicked since I was sixteen.”

“What about on Rupen, and on that dismal little freighter, and –“

“*You* were hogging the bunk,” muttered the apprentice as he slid into bed, wrapping his blanket around himself before pulling up the other covers.

An amused snort was the only response.

Silence reigned for several minutes, both men reluctant to fully settle in, each lying on their own edge of the large bed.

“Obi-Wan, are you sure this is what you really want to do?” asked Qui-Gon, feeling tension over their training bond.

A sigh answered him. “Well, this isn’t really what I had in mind when I used to dream about sleeping in this bed, but I’m just not ready yet to do the things I really want to do here.” The apprentice leaned up one elbow. “I love you, Qui-Gon, but I don’t like myself yet. Force knows I want to be with you, sometimes that’s all I can think about, but this is as close as I can manage right now.” He continued in a small voice, “I’m sorry. If this bothers you, I’ll leave.”

“It’s alright, Obi-Wan. I love you, too, but we’re only going to go as fast as what you can handle,” said Qui-Gon soothingly. “Try to get some sleep now. I won’t use the Force suggestion tonight, but I’m right here if you have any problems. Leave the training bond open and if you start having problems I’ll catch them.”

“Yes, Master.” There were various rustlings as they both got comfortable. “Thank you, Master,” said Obi-Wan softly. There was one final stirring as two hands reached out tentatively to bridge the chasm in the middle of the bed, resting gently against each other as they slipped off to sleep.

 

************* ***************

 

The odd sleeping arrangements actually seemed to be working, at least for the most part. The apprentice slept peacefully, wrapped in his blanket, while the master gradually shucked coverings toward the floor as his night clothes rode up in his turnings. With Obi-Wan so close, Qui-Gon was usually able to catch the start of bad dreams over the open bond and redirect them harmlessly. Mornings were rather awkward for the two men; the disadvantage to having Obi-Wan so close was that Qui-Gon’s morning erection was even more prominent than usual, tenting the pajamas which were all that covered it. The first morning Obi-Wan poked his head out of his blanket, flashed back to being in prison, and almost fell out of the bed in his haste to make it to the fresher. He confessed later that after he locked himself in, he just stood there shaking for ages because half his body wanted to throw up but the other half wanted to jack off when he realized who it really was. He finally settled for a cold shower. As they both became used to the situation, however, they became more comfortable with the situation, and worked out new routines for interacting.

Qui-Gon was also sitting in on more of the Healer sessions with Obi-Wan and one or both of the two Healers. The first joint session with all four of them had been particularly difficult as Obi-Wan tried to work through his feelings about the first meeting with the warden. Painful as it was, he was brutally honest about the mental and physical rape and its impact on him. He had started out holding his master’s hand; by the time they got through his experiences that night and how close he had come to giving up, the apprentice had curled up, eyes closed, wedged into Qui-Gon’s side, his master’s arm around him. The marathon session seemed to have had a cathartic effect; talking through the experience, realizing how difficult it had been and that he had survived, not only survived but escaped, seemed to be finally giving the young man a sense of perspective about what had happened.

Today’s session was being held out in one of the gardens. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were sitting together under a broad-limbed old mler tree while Healer Nolspaq reclined on one elbow in the soft grass. The topic of the day was the padawan’s avoidance of public and private nudity and its relationship to his problems with being touched sexually. Most of the first hour had been a series of seemingly circular arguments without solutions.

“Well, the two *are* tied together, at least in my head,” argued Obi-Wan. “Most of the time I was forced to run around half naked, I was forced to sleep naked and it seemed like much of the rest of the time I had my pants off so I could service that son of a bantha and his insatiable cock. There was never a time I wasn’t being watched, either by him, the camera, the guards, the other inmates. Even when I had pants on, it didn’t take Force senses to feel all of the other prisoners undressing me and thinking about what they would do to me if they could get me away from Maogg.”

“That was in the prison, though. You had no control of the situation and you were surrounded by hostile criminals,” countered the Healer. “Since you have been back, has anyone tried to attack you?”

“Of course not.”

“Has anyone tried to touch you in ways they shouldn’t or that made you uncomfortable?”

“Well, Master Yoda hit me with his gimer stick.” An impudent grin sneaked out of hiding.

“Padawan,” rumbled Qui-Gon warningly, although inside he was pleased to see the spark of humor.

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan turned back to the Healer. “Sorry. No, they haven’t.”

“Have you felt like anyone was trying to ‘undress you’?”

“I suppose not.”

“Has anyone made any sexual overtures to you?”

Obi-Wan thought for a moment. “When I first got back, I felt pretty uncomfortable being around people, my usual friends, but looking back I guess I would have to say they really weren’t doing anything more than our usual horsing around and flirting.” He pulled up some blades of grass and began twisting them in his fingers. “I think I may have overreacted. I know I pulled back from talking to people. I guess I didn’t really give anyone a chance to even flirt, let alone try anything serious.”

“But you still don’t feel comfortable even taking your tunics off?”

The apprentice shook his head.

“What have you been doing about that?”

Obi-Wan looked up. “We’ve been over and over this, I just can’t take my clothes off and run around the Temple. Even in our quarters my skin starts crawling if I think about getting undressed in front of my master.”

“You claim you want to get over this,” said the Healer bluntly, “but quite frankly I don’t believe it.”

“I *do* want to resolve this.” Obi-Wan sat up straight and looked at the Healer angrily. “I want to get on with my life, to be with Qui-Gon the way we want to be.”

“You’ve been back almost three months, and there has been almost no progress in this area. I don’t think you’re serious.” Chilly black eyes looked out challengingly.

Jaw set, arms crossed, Obi-Wan stared back. “I have never been more serious about anything in my life,” he said slowly. “Just what in the six hells do I have to do to prove it to you?”

“Be at Pool Three in twenty-five minutes, Padawan,” the Healer promptly replied. “I signed you up to assist with the introductory swimming class for the four to six year old initiates.”

The apprentice turned pale as a sheet and looked at her, aghast. “Swimming? I, I can’t. . . .“

Healer Nolspaq stood up, hands on her hips. “Padawan Kenobi, those children are some of the most innocent, asexual beings on this whole planet. They’re hardly going to be making sexual advances on you, now are they?”

“Well, no, but –“

“No buts, young man. Sometimes the best therapy for a phobia is to just jump in and face it head-on, and that is what I am prescribing for you,” she said sternly. “Padawan Kenobi, if you want to have any hope of getting back on Mission status and off probation, not to mention fulfilling your love affair with your master, you will get your miserable self down to that pool, in your swimsuit, today and every class day for the next two tendays. End of discussion.” She changed to a pleasant smile. “See you at the pool.”

The Healer turned to the bemused master. “Master Jinn, would you please walk with me to the training facility? There is something I need to discuss with you.”

Qui-Gon rose to his feet and gave a small bow. “It would be my pleasure, Healer Nolspaq.”

The two senior Jedi walked away sedately, leaving behind a slack-jawed, spluttering apprentice.

Once they were out of earshot, Qui-Gon ventured a quiet comment. “I don’t wish to seem out of place, Healer Nolspaq, but was that really part of your standard therapeutic technique?”

“I understand your concern, Master Jinn, but actually sometimes it is necessary to force a patient to confront his fears, or his imagined fears, directly.” She smiled reassuringly. “He is making good progress, and I think he will do well if we can keep him moving forward. Actually, I really do need to speak to you also.”

“Yes, Healer Nolspaq,” replied Qui-Gon with a quizzical smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Obi-Wan tells me that you two are now sleeping together.”

“Yes. He suggested it as a way to try to let him sleep without needing a Force suggestion. It seems to be working; I have been able to keep the dreams at bay for the most part and he has been able to sleep through most nights without a direct Force compulsion.” He continued dryly, “I can assure you that sleeping is the only thing happening in that bed.”

Although the Healer kept her gaze forward, there was definitely a smile on her face. “Well, I would expect that at this point. Tell me, Master Jinn, did Obi-Wan set any requirements when he suggested the arrangement?”

“Yes, actually, he did,” said Qui-Gon with surprise. “He wanted the side of the bed closest to the door and that I wear pajamas, even though I normally don’t.” He shrugged. “Given the situation, they seemed like reasonable requests, so I agreed.”

“But he did not phrase them as requests, did he?”

Qui-Gon thought back to the conversation. “True, he did not.”

The Healer nodded thoughtfully as they walked along in silence for a few minutes. “Master Jinn, I believe that the most lasting effect on Obi-Wan from this whole affair is going to be a need for a fairly high degree of control in his personal relationships, at least for a while, particularly in the type of close personal and physical relationship the two of you seem to be contemplating. The loss of control, especially of his personal space, is by far the most persistent recurring theme in his therapy. You need to understand this and be prepared to deal with it.”

She looked up at Qui-Gon. “I’ve researched your history, Master Jinn. Aside from the fact that you are his master, which will cause difficulties of its own, you are a strong and dominant personality. Also, you have been a Jedi Master for many years, and you are used to being in charge, in control of situations. You just don’t seem the type to have spent a lot of time on your belly or hands and knees. Have you even considered the possibility that in bed you might end up being a permanent bottom to Obi-Wan’s top? And how you would balance that role with your role as his master?”

Qui-Gon stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the Healer, who paused to look back at him. He started to speak, then seemed to reconsider. He drew a deep breath before continuing in a deceptively mild tone, “Do many of your patients die of sudden apoplectic heart attacks, Healer Nolspaq?”

The silvery laugh brightened the air and lit up the Healer’s eyes. She leaned closer and whispered confidentially, “Not yet, Master Jinn, but my master did used to warn me that I’d better not ever let any of my patients bring their lightsaber to any sessions if I wanted to live to see old age.”

Qui-Gon laughed in turn, and they continued on while discussing control issues for master and padawan. Belying the light tone, however, there was a very thoughtful depth to the blue eyes, and the Healer was certain she could detect a ragged churning in the Force signature of the normally well shielded Jedi master. She thoughtfully filed away her observations that Qui-Gon very deftly kept the conversation steered away from any sexual references, and never did answer her question about bottoming.

 

******* *********

 

Pool Three was a small, intimate pool designed primarily for use by initiates and short species. There was a large deck area for holding teaching discussions and the pool itself started with a shallow end of less than two feet and gradually deepened to five. At one end of the enclosure several benches were discreetly tucked against the wall for use by observers or extra lifeguards.

Healer Nolspaq found the instructor, an older female knight, who was an amphibian with brown fur turning to silver, and quietly chatted for a few minutes while Qui-Gon made his way to a bench and sat down to watch the children. Today’s introductory class included about a dozen or so youngsters of various humanoid species, most of whom seemed to be full of energy after their afternoon quiet time. The Healer soon joined the master, softly suggesting they pull their hoods up so Obi-Wan would hopefully be more comfortable with their relatively anonymous presence.

Just before the appointed start time, Obi-Wan came in, his robe pulled tightly around him. He was pale and clearly ill at ease. The knight gestured to him to come over, then spoke briefly to him.

Still clutching his robe, the apprentice began gathering children into a small circle on the open deck. When the circle was complete, the knight clapped twice.

“Good afternoon, initiates. I am Knight Selone, and I will be your instructor for this short course on introductory swimming.”

She was answered by a cheerful chorus of “Good afternoon, Knight Selone.”

“My assistant for the class is Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

A ragged chorus of “Good afternoon, Padawan Kenobi,” was directed at the silent figure at the back of the circle.

“We are also fortunate to have a very special assistant with us.” She gestured toward a short furry figure, almost a smaller version of herself. “Initiate Reggin is from an amphibious species, and is already a very good swimmer. He will be demonstrating the various floating and swimming techniques and helping the younger initiates.”

Most of the initiates already seemed to know the sleek initiate with the brash grin, and there were scattered calls of “Hi, Reg,” and “Yeah, Reg.”

For the next twenty minutes, the knight led her group through a series of exercises to practice breathing and basic floating style. Obi-Wan and the initiate moved around the group helping with forms and questions, concentrating on those for whom it was their first time in the pool. Finally they were ready to move to the water, and the knight led them to the edge of the pool, lining up the excited initiates by height.

“Alright, quiet please.” She waited a moment for the chattering to die down. “The first exercise is going to be simply becoming familiar with the water. When each of you gets into the pool, the water should be about waist high. We are going to stand in the water, feel the water, learn its texture. Water is simply another type of environment, like the air, and you need to become familiar with it just as you are learning to feel the Force in some of your other classes. Now, wait for me.” The knight slipped gracefully into the pool, then lifted Reg into the water, telling him to stay put. One by one, she went to each initiate and carefully placed them into the water, making sure each had steady footing and a grasp on the pool gutter railing. Still on the deck, Obi-Wan followed along behind the line of initiates, standing behind each one until the knight had a firm grasp. The initiate reactions were mixed, some excited, some fearful, but everyone made it into the water until they got to the last initiate. The little girl had been watching with wide brown eyes in a pale white face, and the closer the knight got, the wider her eyes seemed to get. Even from where Qui-Gon and the Healer sat, they could feel the waves of fear rolling off her. When Knight Selone tried to coax her into the water, she simply stood there shaking her head. Obi-Wan knelt beside her and between the two of them they finally managed to get her to sit on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water, but that was as far as she was going.

“Padawan Kenobi, please get in the pool and stay beside her for a while,” directed the knight as she moved back toward the middle of the group.

“Yes, Knight Selone,” acknowledged the apprentice. He drew a deep breath; now was the moment of truth. He looked around, but everybody’s attention was on the knight discussing floating techniques. Everybody except the little girl, that is, who was looking up at him with those wide brown eyes, waiting for him. He smiled shakily at her, then in one abrupt movement threw off his robe and slipped into the pool, sinking to his knees so as little as possible showed above the water. He leaned in close to the side of the pool, which was somewhat of a tactical error, as it enabled the little initiate to get a death grip around his neck. Obi-Wan gently pried her fingers loose and let her hold his hand instead. He murmured soothingly to her as they watched the knight and Reg help the first few initiates hold themselves away from the side of the pool and relax into a back float.

As the knight worked her way through the group, she summoned Obi-Wan to help hold up some of the less confident initiates. He patted the hand of the last little initiate and glided down the line. The next half hour passed quickly, helping the slow and keeping a cautious eye on the more adventurous. The knight finally gathered the group together in the shallow end for a simple water meditation while Obi-Wan worked with the little initiate, eventually persuading her to walk around in the shallow water and join the group.

“Alright, everyone can open their eyes now,” announced the knight. “I know for many of you this was your first time in the water and it can be pretty scary, but you all did very well for this first class and I am very proud of you. During the next several classes we will be continuing with the basic water familiarization exercises and everyone will have an opportunity to practice floating and some basic swimming strokes. Right now, since you all did so well, we have some extra time and you can play in the pool. Padawan Kenobi and I will be right here if you have any problems, but the time is now yours. I can get some balls and floats out if there is anything in particular anyone would like to do?”

Reg popped up from the deeper water. “I know what game we want to play!” Everyone looked at him expectantly. With a resounding war whoop, he leaped up. “Dunk the padawan!”

With excited screams and yells, most of the initiates piled on the unsuspecting padawan, dragging him down under the mass of bodies. With a roar at the sudden contact, the angry apprentice reared up, about to throw off some and Force floating others, but stopped short when he saw the little girl. For the first time since the class started, she had lost her fear and was clapping and giggling. With a struggle, he converted his reactions from anger to a show of fear, letting the initiates swarm him and drag him back under. He entered into the play, using the Force to splash water and make waves. By the time Knight Selone called everyone off, he had actually started to enjoy himself. He floated over to where the little girl was standing in the shallow water.

“You’re nice,” she said shyly.

“And you were very brave today to get into the water,” he said gently.

“Water is scary. I don’t like it,” she said, a serious expression on her face.

“I know. A lot of things are scary when you don’t understand them.” He reached out to pick her up as he saw Knight Selone approaching. “It’s hard to do things you are afraid of, but you have friends to help you.”

“Are you coming back?”

He smiled at her as he deposited her on the deck. “Yes, I’ll be back. We’re going to learn to float before we get done.” He tugged her nose and she giggled at him.

“Thank you, Padawan Kenobi,” said Knight Selone. “The senior padawans on creche duty will take the children back, so you are released for today. You were very helpful and we’re looking forward to having you for the rest of the class.” Although the tone was positive, there was a question in the raised eyebrow as she handed him a large towel.

“Yes, Knight Selone.” Obi-Wan looked at the initiates being toweled off by the two senior padawans, then back at the knight. “I’ll be back.” She nodded and left as the apprentice climbed out of the pool and began drying off.

“There now, that wasn’t so terribly awful, was it?” teased the Healer.

Obi-Wan eased into the cloak his master held for him before replying. He crossed his arms and glared at the Healer. “I have been traumatized for life by those little beasts,” he announced in a pathetic whine but the effect was rather spoiled by the snort that sneaked out. He pointed a finger at the Healer. “Dunk the padawan, my ass. If I thought there was any way you could have put the little monster up to that, I would make it my life mission to find a way to get you back.”

“I thought that little girl was rather endearing, actually,” interjected Qui-Gon mildly.

The apprentice’s eyes softened. “Poor little thing was scared half to death.”

“I thought your master was the one with the reputation for rescuing pathetic life forms,” chuckled the Healer.

Obi-Wan started an indignant rejoinder, then grinned sheepishly. “I guess it must be contagious.”

“Seriously, though, how do you feel?” asked the Healer quietly.

Buying some time by toweling his hair again, Obi-Wan considered his answer carefully before replying. “When I came in, I felt pretty shaky. I had this sort of feeling, like little bugs crawling over my skin, and I wanted to hide. As the class went on, I guess I would have to say it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, whether because it was mostly children or whether it was because they all treated me like I just part of the background, I don’t know. I think I can handle the rest of the classes here.” He bit his lower lip as he looked down at the ground. Finally looking up, he continued apologetically, “I guess I really did need a kick in the butt to get going on this issue.”

“Good. I know you still have a lot of course work to get caught up on, so I’m going to adjust your counseling sessions to take into account the extra time you will need for this class. I’ll send you both a new schedule tomorrow. Good day, gentlemen.” With a small bow, the Healer departed, leaving the two Jedi to make their way back to their quarters.

 

************ *************

 

With the end of the academic term drawing quickly closer, both Jedi were busier than ever. By the time Obi-Wan finished his stint with the swimming class, there were only three tendays left until final exams. Qui-Gon was spending more time providing extra help for some of his slower than slow students while Obi-Wan was deep in the throes of finalizing his research and writing several papers and projects; even the non-class days on ninthday and tenthday were full from morning to night. He had continued to make progress, both with personal and academic problems. The Padawan Review Board had discreetly indicated to Qui-Gon they were pleased with the review reports so far, but were still reserving judgement until final exams. During the day the apprentice found himself more comfortable with his friends, although he seldom had time for more than chats between classes and meals in the dining hall. He had apologized to his closest friends for his earlier rude behavior and most of them were tactful enough to avoid referring to his suspended rank and probation. Around their quarters, Obi-Wan had begun to wear only leggings and a loose undertunic instead of his full uniform and there had been no hint of dreams for over a full tenday. Qui-Gon had begun to notice a more urgent undertone, almost tension, in their training bond, and had caught his apprentice looking at him in the evenings with a hungry expression, but pretended not to notice, concentrating instead on keeping his own physical desires under control.

This Ninthday dawned bright and clear, and turned out to be an exceptionally warm and pleasant day. Unfortunately, neither Master Jinn nor Padawan Kenobi was able to take much advantage of this fact. From ninth hour to eighteenth hour there was an almost constant parade of small groups of anxious junior padawans in and out of the Jinn-Kenobi quarters to get counseling and tutoring in the remedial math and language classes they were taking from the Master. At eighth hour the padawan had left for the library, finally dragging himself back to their quarters for latemeal.

“Master, I’m back,” called Obi-Wan as he entered their quarters. He hung up his cloak, dropped his pack of datapads by the door and carefully deposited a large thermosealed bag in the kitchen before heading over to the balcony. Pausing at the open doors, he took in the sight of his master sitting with elbows on the railing, chin in his hands, shoulders slumped, expression melancholy.

“Master, what’s wrong?” he asked quietly. There was a flutter of sadness and futility over the bond.

Qui-Gon lifted his head and sighed. He gave a half hearted smile. “Don’t mind me. I’m just indulging in a bout of self pity. After the twelfth time of trying to explain advanced quadratic equations and the eleventh time trying to explain the difference between verb tenses and why you should use them, everything suddenly seemed so futile and unimportant. I suppose I must be getting better at it though,” he gave a mirthless smile, “only four of them broke down in tears today. Oh well, I’m probably just tired.” He looked back out over the railing, setting sun sparkling on the cityscape and finding its way down to little oases of green parks. He sighed again and rubbed his forehead. “Either that or it’s cabin fever. It seems like forever since I’ve been allowed out of this Sithdamned room for anything but classes and training.”

A surge of guilt flooded through Obi-Wan. It had become so much a part of their daily routine that he had almost forgotten about his master’s restriction to quarters, about the requirements to register his schedule with the Master at Arms office, to get permission even to attend the joint Healer’s sessions, and the occasional unannounced visits from the knights in their red and gold tabards checking up on him. For an active Jedi master like Qui-Gon, it had to be galling to be treated like a junior padawan on probation.

Without thinking, Obi-Wan walked over behind his master, and began to gently knead the tight shoulders. Qui-Gon stiffened in surprise, but then relaxed into the soothing massage.

Obi-Wan continued to squeeze and manipulate the muscles, working knots out of heavy shoulders, as he wrestled internally with the conflicting emotions. Pleasure and lust were rapidly winning out over reluctance and fear.

“It’s only three tendays until the start of final exams, Master,” murmured the apprentice finally after several minutes. “Then the exams and reports usually only take four or five days. Before you know it, the Council will be running you ragged with missions again and you'll be wishing for a little peace and quiet.”

“They can run us to the Outer Rim and back, and I won’t mind at all as long as a certain Senior Padawan is with me,” said Qui-Gon softly, eyes closed.

The strong hands dug in a little deeper. Obi-Wan felt the heat flowing into him, sending jolts of electricity straight to his groin. Mindful of his own current shaky status, and trying for a light tone, he said teasingly, “Master, you didn’t tell me you’ve been courting senior padawans while I’ve been out.”

Qui-Gon stood up and slowly turned as Obi-Wan stepped back in surprise. The blue eyes were dark and there was a bass throbbing over the bond. “I can’t even see other padawans in the brilliance of your light, my Obi-Wan.”

The two men stood apart, barely breathing. The master’s clenched hands at his sides screamed of control; the padawan’s pale face and sweating hands cried out his indecision warring with desire. Slowly, the younger man’s jaw set and he advanced, step by cautious step. He reached out and grabbed two fistfuls of cream tunic, slowly pushing, forcing the bigger man to make a choice, to fight or to yield, slowly pushing him back down into his seat. Gray eyes stared intently into blue as the apprentice kept moving, his face edging closer and closer, then closing the final inch with a rush, lips sealed to lips with bruising force. Eyes now closed, wanting only to feel, searing heat melting walls in his mind, burning away fear.

Large hands reaching, pulling the smaller body closer, tip of tongue probing. The spell was abruptly broken.

“No.” Obi-Wan released his grip, pushed back, staggering, to lean against the wall. “Not yet,” he whispered. “I’m not ready.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment, ragged breathing and drumming hearts breaking the silence, shields slammed tight in self defense.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon offered. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“No, I started it,” said Obi-Wan, shaking his head. “And I apologize for starting something I wasn’t ready to finish.” He straightened up, took a deep breath. “Master, there is something I need to do. I stopped by the dining hall on my way back from the library and got food for latemeal.” He looked at Qui-Gon, licked his lower lip. “I’ll be back later, Master.” He turned and went inside to his room.

Qui-Gon had stepped inside as far as the common room when Obi-Wan emerged from his room carrying his workout bag. The apprentice headed for the door, stopping just short and turning around.

“Don’t lose that blue stone, Master,” he said intently, hunger in his eyes. “I *will* be claiming it.” One last look, and he was out the door.

 

************* ***************

 

There was more activity than Obi-Wan expected in the training salles on such a pleasant Ninthday evening. He had found a private spot in the locker room to change, but in the salles was surprised to see a mix of knights, older masters and masters with young padawans working on katas and lightsaber drills. There were still plenty of empty private rooms, though, and he quickly found one and engaged the lock.

He had chosen this particular room for its full length walls of mirrors. For several minutes he stood quietly, looking at his reflection. The apprentice sank gracefully into a cross-legged position and meditated for a half hour, centering himself in the Force and letting it guide him.

With eyes still closed, Obi-Wan began slowly stretching, small movements at first, gradually extending himself in wider, sweeping stretches until he felt warm and loose. Finally opening his eyes, he moved into a series of katas, his graceful, controlled figure repeating the precise motions time after time. He was peripherally aware of the battalion of padawans that accompanied his every move in the mirrors, turning and twisting in exact time to his cadence, echoing every tumble and acrobatic leap. For almost two hours he flowed around the room, still letting the Force direct him, channeling the energy and tension that had been building up for so long into physical exertion. Muscles burning and sweat pouring, he moved into a cooling down kata, finally coming to a halt at the center of the room.

Obi-Wan moved close to one of the mirrored walls, looking into the gray eyes reflected back at him. Deliberately, he began removing his soft half boots, his socks, slowly pulling the sweat-soaked tunic off, easing the wet leggings down over his hips and to the floor, hesitated briefly with thumbs hooked in smallclothes and loinguard, then decisively pulled them down and stepped away from the pile of wet clothing.

Obi-Wan wiped sweat from his eyes as he began a slow, methodical survey of the naked body staring back from the silvered surface. Short hair, dark and spiky with sweat, changeable eyes, now dark gray with introspection, short nose, and flexible mouth. The frame was sturdy if rather too short for its owner’s liking. Torso and limbs strong, well balanced, smooth muscles well toned and working in harmony. Head turned, the strong, curved back was reflected from across the room, rounded buttocks merging into strong thighs. Turning back, stepping even closer to the mirror, the inspection continued. The long braid hung twisted and askew, the feathery end brushing one nipple, hard in the cool air. The hollow at the base of the neck, a trickle of sweat collecting before it rushed down the pale hairless breast. The left nipple, dark twin to its companion. Stomach flat, flanks lean. Small thatch of russet hair framing a generous penis nestled against soft testicles.

~ You know what, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re not such a bad looking fellow, ~ he thought to himself. ~ It’s just a body, your body, one you’ve taken good care of, easy on the eyes, why should it bother you if other people want to look at it too? ~

He made another sweeping survey.

~ You made it through the swimming class just fine, even if it was just mostly little initiates and an old cuddly bear of a knight in there. You didn’t mind them looking at you, in fact you even started to have a lot of fun playing around with them. ~

Obi-Wan tentatively reached up with one hand to touch his cheek.

~ You didn’t mind them piling on and touching you after you got used to it. And Force knows you like it when Qui-Gon touches you, holds you. ~

A flush spread on both cheeks at that thought, and fingertips brushed across his lips. His other hand slid slowly across his chest to lightly caress a nipple. He began sucking lightly on a finger as the caress on his nipple changed to rolling and squeezing.

~ Oh, yeah, you like it just fine when Master touches you, and you know you want more, a lot more, than just holding hands. ~

Fingers to mouth, wetting them generously, then wet fingertips swirling on hard nipples. In the mirror, the heavy cock began to fill, ever so slowly. Nostrils flaring, tongue peeking out through parted lips, cheeks flushed as the fingers caressed, pinched, a sudden flick and a gasp. One hand, fingertips ghosting downward, rib by rib, tickling, teasing, as the other continued to work the hard nubs.

~ I will have him ~

two hands caressing flat belly

~ he will touch me as we make love ~

one hand on his flank as the other sneaked down slowly

~ and I will touch him ~

electric tingles in the rapidly hardening cock

~ I will touch him all over as he lies sprawled out in that big bed ~

his cock was definitely interested in that thought as breath quickened

~ kiss him and touch him ~

one hand stroking his balls as the erect cock pointed at itself in the mirror

~ make him moan in desire ~

second hand caressing the hard cock, fingertips grazing the sensitive tip

~ hold him down and kiss him, hot flesh burning for me, only me ~

gray eyes watching avidly, chest heaving

~ make him mine, touch him and kiss him, all over except there, make him ask for it ~

fist enclosing leaking cock, up, down, back up again, hand squeezing heavy balls

~ touch, hot kisses, hot skin, hard cock, take it, sucking, taking, oh Force ~

thoughts rambling as the smoldering fire in his belly burst into flame, hands working frantically

~ Qui-Gon ~

hips thrusting into the wet hand, jerking, frenetic twisting of mind and body, sharp cry as both erupted in a flood of heat and light, white seed covering hands and reflections, sinking into warmth, welcome and safe.

~ Ow, what’s that ~ Obi-Wan thought rather fuzzily. He blinked his eyes, then yelped as a sharp cramp in his lower leg demanded attention. He jumped up from the awkward position in which he had been sitting and stretched his leg, massaging the cramp out. Straightening up, he looked down. ~ ewwgh ~ was his reaction to the clammy semen covering hands and belly and the cold sweat over most of the rest of his body. ~ Force, what a mess ~ he sighed as he picked up his dirty tunic and cleaned the mirror. A smile crossed his face as he finished wiping up. ~ It was good, though. ~ He paused, hugged himself. ~ Who are you kidding? That was better than good. You know you haven’t felt that good since before you ended up in that Sithdamned prison. ~ The smile disappeared as he contemplated his pile of wet clothes. Shaking his head, he picked up the leggings, looked at them disgustedly before pulling them on, then bundled everything else into his arms and headed back to the locker room.

Inside the locker room he stuffed his workout clothes inside his bag. He pulled a towel around his waist before sliding off the leggings and adding them to the bag. Standing in front of the open locker, he looked indecisively toward the showers as he unplaited his braid. There were only a few beings around; he could hear a locker bang and a few quiet conversations. Buoyed by the inner glow of satisfaction that lingered from his successful masturbation, Obi-Wan decided to take a chance. Holding one towel tightly in place around his middle and with another draped around his shoulders, he walked quickly toward the shower room.

Keeping his eyes down, Obi-Wan studiously ignored the few other occupants as he found a quiet corner, hung his towels on the wall hook, and turned on the water. There was an oddly unsettling moment when he looked up; the rows of metal showerheads almost reminded him of the shower room in the prison, but the feeling quickly passed. Eyes now closed, he let the hot water flow over him, washing away the sweat and dirt. With a handful of liquid soap from the dispenser, he efficiently lathered up from head to toe and rinsed off, twisting quickly to get the soap off front and back. Turning the water off, he grabbed one towel and wrapped it back around his waist, with the other he began drying himself as he walked back to his locker. Once there, he finished drying off and put on his uniform. After combing out the braid, he replaited it as he sat on the low bench running between the rows of lockers. Finished, he sat for a bit longer as he slowly drew several deep breaths.

~ That wasn’t so bad, now was it? ~ Obi-Wan could hear the Healer’s voice echoing in his head. He smiled a little. ~ No, I guess it wasn’t really so bad, after all ~ He stood up, slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and looked around. ~ Now, I just have to do it when there’s really people around, and maybe I can get one more step checked off in getting back to Mission status ~ His smile got a little wider as he headed out of the locker room and back toward his quarters. ~ Three tendays left to regain Mission status, pass all four classes, and clear the ND. I can do this, I *will* do it. Then it’s look out, Master Jinn, because you’re going to belong to one each very hot senior padawan. ~ The smile grew positively wicked as he strode down the hallway, and he drew more than one curious glance as the few others he passed wondered who the lucky being was at the other end of that smile.

 

*************** ***********

 

Obi-Wan quietly let himself in, intending to slip in and go to bed. He was surprised to find his master still up, doggedly correcting student datapads at the table.

“Hello, Master,” said the apprentice quietly as he headed for the kitchen. He poured a large glass of cold fruit juice from the cooler and began drinking.

Qui-Gon stopped and stretched, not bothering to hide the yawn that opened his mouth wide. He watched his padawan move back into the common area. There was a new air of confidence in the quiet smile, the relaxed stride, a subtle self-assurance that had been missing for too long. “Good evening, Padawan,” he finally replied. He continued good-naturedly, “Although I suppose good morning would be more accurate.”

“Sorry to be back so late,” said Obi-Wan, sipping the rest of his juice. “I didn’t realize it would take so long, and I didn’t expect you to wait up.”

“It’s not a problem. I needed to get these student papers finished anyway,” said Qui-Gon with a small smile. He waited a moment, watching his apprentice as he stood near the table. Very softly, he asked, “Are you alright, Obi-Wan?” He hesitated before continuing. “Your shields were up so tightly I was afraid something might be wrong, and I was worried about you.”

Recognizing the affection behind the honest concern, Obi-Wan was touched. He smiled. “I just needed to work some things out, Master. I was at the training salles and had a pretty intense session, so I showered there. I feel fine, Master.” He paused, considering. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve felt this fine since before Junmek.”

Qui-Gon smiled back, pleased for his apprentice. “That’s good news, Obi-Wan. I’m glad to hear it.”

A wide yawn split the apprentice’s face, followed by a small grin. “I guess I am awfully tired though, Master. It’s been a very long day and it’s very late. Would you mind if we skip the final meditations, Master, and go to bed now? I’m not sure I could stay awake through the whole thing.”

“Well, since you’ve been doing so much better lately, I suppose one night off wouldn’t hurt anything. And as you say, it is very late, so I think I’ll join you. The rest of these can wait until the morning.” He began neatly stacking datapads.

The apprentice finished his juice, rinsed the glass and left it in the sink before heading to his room to change. He heard the door to the fresher open and close, waited until he heard it open again before he went out himself to use the facility.

Standing in the doorway to the main bedroom, Obi-Wan took a few minutes to contemplate the sight of his master. At the moment, the long body was neatly contained on its own side of the big bed, although the apprentice knew that wouldn’t last long. Qui-Gon’s frequent bouts of restlessness in bed were a standing joke; he had already had to replace two buttons on his pajamas that had been torn off in his wriggling. The apprentice sighed a bit guiltily; although he hadn’t mentioned it, Obi-Wan knew his master didn’t like the nightclothes, but they had quickly become a visible symbol of his support during this difficult time. Qui-Gon faithfully put them on every night, even though most mornings they had ridden up or were half off.

Obi-Wan smiled and moved to the bed. He pulled back the covers, contemplated the blanket for a moment, then quickly slid into bed on top of the blanket, pulling the covers back up.

“Good night, Master,” said the apprentice. Sitting up, leaning on one elbow, he leaned over and brushed Qui-Gon’s forehead with a quick kiss before settling back onto his pillow.

“Good night, Padawan,” replied Qui-Gon with a small grin. Sleepy eyes looked over as hands reached out to touch. He gave a quick squeeze, only then realizing that the young man had not wrapped himself in his customary blanket. “Obi-Wan?”

“Hmmm?”

“Never mind.” Qui-Gon lazily watched his apprentice through half closed eyes, savoring the touch of hand in hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a nagging little thought, something vague about Obi-Wan’s shields, but it faded away as he drifted off to sleep.

 

*************** ********************

 

The air was cool against his skin.

~ Cool? ~

Obi-Wan looked around dully. ~ Oh, yeah. Greentag day. ~

Eyes on the ground, the young man shifted his weight. The chains around his ankles and wrists clinked as the line of naked prisoners was prodded forward. The single chain that linked their left ankles together dragged along the floor as the group shuffled down the long corridor. He had long since learned to ignore the jeers, catcalls and blown kisses from the prisoners still in their cells as they moved along. He and Maogg were at the end of the chain, and he could feel the hot body press close to his.

“Boy,” hissed the clansman angrily.

“Yes, Mazhten?” A spike of fear shot through him as he recognized the angry tone.

“You have been clumsy in your work and slow in service. You will be disciplined.”

“But it wasn’t my fault, Mazhten,” whispered Obi-Wan angrily. “I tripped over the bucket, I didn’t mean to spill it.” During the cell cleaning earlier, the apprentice had spilled his bucket of hot, soapy water on the guard’s boots; both inmates had been rewarded by an extended jolt on the control collar which had sent them to the floor, writhing in pain.

“You will remember to be more careful next time. You have also been slow and reluctant in serving me.”

“Please, Mazhten, I’ve just been tired,” pleaded the apprentice. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

“You need a reminder in appreciation, boy, appreciation of only having to serve one master. You will get that lesson today. Obey me or your punishment will be even worse.”

“But Mazhten, please, –“

“Quiet back there,” snarled a guard as he stamped toward the back of the line. Obi-Wan put his head down and hunched his shoulders as the guard approached. Tapping his control rod against his thigh, the guard looked at the last several prisoners, then snapped out “Keep it quiet,” before taking up a position behind the line.

The group was stopped momentarily as the guards extracted two more prisoners from a greentag cell and added them to the front of the line. Maogg took advantage of the pause to move close to Obi-Wan, flipping his wrist chain over the Jedi’s head so he could use his hands to grope the front of his body, stopping briefly to tweak both nipples, twisting the small rings, then sliding down to fondle the flaccid cock and balls as the guard looked on with casual interest. By now Obi-Wan’s body had been well trained to respond quickly and his cock swiftly filled under the clansman’s manipulations, straining at the snug silver cock ring around its base. Having achieved his objective, after a last warning tweak to balls and nipples, Maogg pulled the chain back over the apprentice’s head and let his hands slide down the back to caress the muscular ass.

Face burning in humiliation, Obi-Wan kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground as they moved forward, his erection curving up toward his belly, occasionally slapping it as they shuffled along. The catcalls and suggestive leers increased. Even a guard patrolling the line stopped long enough to comment on the moving cock, “Pretty little jailbait sure is a horny bitch,” and laugh.

Inside the shower facility, the group moved first to the left and spread out along a low single wooden bench which ran almost the length of the room. On command, the prisoners put one leg over the bench and they all sat, straddling the bench, chains stretched taut. In the warm room, a team of prisoner trustees dressed in shorts next moved into action to take care of the cleanup.

The first order of business was cutting hair. Small portable clippers in hand, the trustees spread out along the line of prisoners and went to work. The head trustee went to the back of the line and started on Maogg, who only asked for a trimming of the ends of his long hair.

Obi-Wan could hear the two men whispering behind him. He couldn’t quite make out most of the actual words, but he did hear the term ‘Jedi bitch’ several times and was pretty sure they weren’t chatting about his health. The trustee moved up and the apprentice sat quietly as the clippers hummed over his head, evening out the short buzz cut preferred by his owner. He closed his eyes as loose hair floated down.

As the clippers made their last pass, Obi-Wan was surprised to feel Maogg scoot up close behind him. The wrist chain flipped over his head again and one long arm wrapped around his upper belly while the other pulled his hands up to chest level. Hot breath at his ear, “Spread your legs, boy.”

Automatically obeying, Obi-Wan opened his eyes to find the head trustee leaning down over him with a nasty grin. Flinching back, he was chastised by a quick squeeze around his ribs that forced out a grunt. The trustee stepped between the bench and the apprentice’s leg, forcing his legs out even wider. Thumbing on the clippers, he grabbed the silver ring through the end of the hard cock, using it move the shaft around as he efficiently removed the Jedi’s pubic hair. Maogg hoisted him up off the bench so the clippers could move around the entire crotch and up his ass. Obi-Wan submitted quietly to the humiliating procedure, fearful of the consequences of any protest. The trustee took his time running his hand over the whole area, removing a stray hair here and there, before finally turning off the clippers and straightening up.

Maogg released the apprentice’s hand and forced Obi-Wan’s head sideways. “You will now thank the trustee for cutting your hair.”

Pulling his shorts down in front, the trustee thrust a semi-erect cock into Obi-Wan’s mouth. Heeding the warning squeeze around his ribs, the apprentice started licking the cock into full erection. He began vigorously sucking to try to get the man off as quickly as possible. Occasionally he would vary the stimulation by using his tongue to caress the sensitive tip. Obi-Wan could feel warm water swirling around his feet as a trustee with a hose began washing down the floor, sending water and hair flowing toward the numerous drains. Several guards and trustees lingered, watching. Warm water washed over his legs, up into his crotch, back down his legs, as the hose played over his lower body. The stream of water caught his cock, causing it to bounce, drawing several lewd comments. Maogg held him tightly in place as the trustee began jerking his hips, face fucking the young Jedi. The trustee finally pulled back with a hoarse grunt and sprayed his seed over Obi-Wan’s face and chest, creating a sticky, itchy mess of loose hair and come. Tucking his spent cock back into his shorts, the trustee patted the apprentice on the head as he murmured his thanks to the clansman.

Keeping his features schooled to neutrality, Obi-Wan allowed himself a brief vehement thought before dropping back into survival numbness.

With the show over, a shouted command brought the prisoners to their feet. They shuffled into the shower area as a trustee finished washing down the vacated area. Moving onto the grated surface, each inmate tossed his wrist chain up onto an overhead hook as they had been trained. When all were in place, the head trustee turned a valve and overhead sprinklers poured down a deluge of warm water, providing an initial rinse and thorough wetting.

Most times the next part was usually not too bad for Obi-Wan. Prisoner trustees with bars of soft soap and hoses moved out onto the floor, lathered up inmates from head to toe and then rinsed them. Maogg’s possessiveness was well known, so the trustee who got stuck with the Jedi bitch was usually very careful to work as quickly and impersonally as possible. Today was clearly going to be different, however. Shaking his head to clear water from his eyes after the initial inundation, Obi-Wan saw Maogg exchange nods with the head trustee. He watched apprehensively as the head trustee gathered two others with their soap and hoses and headed his way.

All of the prisoners, trustees and guards began turning toward the end of the room as they became aware of the scene unfolding there. Obi-Wan stood with arms stretched upward, legs kicked apart to the limits of his chains. The three trustees were slowly lathering him up, starting with his freshly trimmed head and working downward. Soapy fingers caressed warm skin, lips and tongues worked at his mouth and nipples. A hot mouth slipped down to suck his aching cock, tongue working hard at the silver ring in the tip. More soapy fingers forced their way inside the clenched sphincter as the helpless apprentice squirmed and moaned. Two fingers, then three, brutally stretching the small opening. Obi-Wan gasped as the fingers were suddenly withdrawn and a hose was jammed up his ass, warm water rushing into his bowels.

It felt like hands and mouths were all over his body; everywhere he turned lust-filled eyes watched him, tongues licked wet lips. As his belly filled with water and his cock throbbed, his whimpers and moans were captured by the mouth sucking his tongue. Turned in Maogg’s direction momentarily, Obi-Wan was frightened by the hard blue eyes staring coldly at him. His attention was quickly distracted by the cramps developing in his bloated midsection but the hose was yanked from his ass before they could become too intense. He was even more humiliated by the waste water running down his legs, even though it was quickly hosed off. The manhandling, soaping and rinsing continued, accompanied by crude chants and filthy cheers; twice more he was filled and emptied. His nipples were sore and bleeding, his cock painfully sensitive and hard from the continuous stimulation without release.

Suddenly the room fell silent and the three trustees stepped back from the dripping Jedi. There was a faint whir and the hook holding his wrist chain descended enough to allow the apprentice to sink to his knees. Turning his head, he saw Maogg approach, his massive cock erect. The clansman knelt behind Obi-Wan, then in one sudden thrust he plunged his cock into the apprentice’s ass as Obi-Wan screamed. The trustees went back to work: one knelt to suck on the Jedi’s cock, one sucked at his nipples and the third pulled his own cock out and forced it into the apprentice’s mouth. Degraded and humiliated, Obi-Wan tried to yell as Maogg began pounding him from behind. Impaled on the cock in his ass, choking on the cock in his mouth and burning from the mouths on his own cock and nipples, he writhed and moaned.

~ leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone ~

“No!” came from the scream from his raw throat as his fist connected with something solid. He screamed again as he struggled desperately to escape. His legs and arms were being held, he felt like he was being smothered as he redoubled his efforts.

“No!” weaker now.

~ please leave me alone please leave me alone please ~

~ Obi-Wan ~ a distant voice

~ leave me alone ~ he whimpered ~ please ~

~ Obi-Wan, listen to me. ~ stronger now, familiar

~ ?? ~

~ Obi-Wan, it’s alright, you’re safe. ~

~ Master? ~

~ Listen to me, Obi-Wan. It’s Qui-Gon, you’re safe, come back to me. ~

~ safe? ~ he grabbed that thought like a drowning man clinging to a rope.

~ It’s Qui-Gon, you’re home, you’re safe. Come back to me, my Obi-Wan. ~

Obi-Wan slowly cracked his eyes open, drew a shaky breath. He peered around, understanding dawning as he recognized the common room of their quarters in the Temple on Coruscant, dawn light just beginning to creep in. His pajama top was ripped half off and he was partially wrapped in a blanket. Qui-Gon was holding him at the end of the couch, trying to calm him, to reach out through their bond. Obi-Wan blinked, drew a deep breath, shifted his focus from the room to his master. He was still shaking and his hands trembled. Qui-Gon’s expression was worried and there was a trickle of blood from his nose.

“Master?”

“Yes, Padawan,” crooned Qui-Gon. “I’m right here. You’re safe now, it’s alright.”

Obi-Wan tried to push away. Qui-Gon let him go but the apprentice fell weakly back into his arms.

“What happened?”

“You were dreaming, Padawan,” said Qui-Gon. “Your shields were up and it took me quite a while to get through to you, to pull you out of the dream.”

“Did I do that?” asked the apprentice as he tentatively pointed a shaky finger to his master’s face.

“Yes, Padawan. You were thrashing around, tried to run. I had to hold you so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.” A half smile crooked his mouth. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had a lot worse, and in any event, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Force, I’m cold,” whispered Obi-Wan vehemently. “And I feel awful, dirty and sick. Why can’t I get that place out of my head?”

“It will be alright, Padawan,” said Qui-Gon soothingly as he tried to pull the blanket up around his shivering apprentice.

“It’s not alright,” Obi-Wan shouted. He pushed away and tried to stand up, wavering as he clutched the blanket around him. “It’s not alright at all. I did everything I was asked to do, I’ve been working my ass off, and then this happens.” He tried to walk around, gaining strength along with his anger.

“Padawan, the healing process can take a long time.” Qui-Gon hesitated a moment. “I saw part of your dream when I was trying to get in. It was pretty bad, and that amount of damage can leave a lot of scars to overcome.”

“Pretty bad?” Obi-Wan stared at the older man incredulously. His voice rose. “Pretty bad? If you saw any of that filth you should understand why I feel like such a piece of shit! I was nothing but a fucking animal in that place!” He began pacing, still clutching the blanket. “Work and fucking! That’s all I was good for.” He paced back and forth angrily. “I have worked so fucking hard and I actually thought I was getting over it. Can you imagine that? What a stupid fucking idiot I was.”

“Obi-Wan, calm down,” said Qui-Gon in a low voice. “It was just a setback; don’t let this undo all the good things you’ve accomplished.”

The young Jedi stopped pacing, flung himself down on the couch, shoulders shaking. “All that work, and that bloody fucking son of a bantha is still in my head,” he cried out. “It’s not fair, it’s just not fair!”

For the next hour Qui-Gon stayed with his apprentice as he alternated between raging anger and sobbing despair, trying his best to steer him back to some sort of emotional middle ground. Obi-Wan finally dropped off into an uneasy exhausted sleep, aided by a Force suggestion from his master.

After wrapping another blanket around his apprentice, Qui-Gon fixed a cup of tea to soothe his own ragged emotions. He sat at the terminal for several minutes, head in his hands, trying to center himself, before activating it.

“Healer Nolspaq? This is Master Jinn.”

A yawning image stared back at him quizzically from the monitor.

“I apologize for calling so early on Tenthday, but Obi-Wan has had a relapse.”

The Healer immediately straightened and asked for details. After they discussed the incident, she asked Qui-Gon to notify her when Obi-Wan woke up. She urged him to ensure that the young man moved back into normal events such as getting cleaned up, dressed and eating rather than being allowed to sit around and brood on what had happened. Qui-Gon agreed, promised to comm her as soon as he got some food into his apprentice, and signed off.

 

***************** ******************

 

Obi-Wan reclined on a blanket in the warm sun, occasionally sipping cold fruit juice from a thermal flask. Qui-Gon and Healer Nolspaq sat on blankets in the shade of their favorite mler tree in what they had come to think of as their private little corner of the gardens. Qui-Gon nibbled slices of sweet breddafruit as he listened to the quiet discussion.

A few hours earlier the Healer had arrived as the two men were sitting partially dressed at their table, the master sipping tea and watching anxiously as his apprentice desultorily picked at the leftovers on his plate. She had immediately taken charge, directing them into their respective rooms to get properly dressed while she ordered up a full lunch basket from the dining hall. Taking her two charges in tow, they had stopped at the dining hall just long enough to pick up their food, then headed out to the gardens. All serious conversation was forbidden as she stuffed them full of hot soup, crisp four-bean salad, sandwiches, fruit and chocolate tapecal pudding. She had gotten a smile from both men as she curtly sent the officious junior knight from the Master of Arms office packing when he came to indignantly inquire about the unauthorized absence of one Master Jinn from his quarters; before he had gotten a half dozen words out the Healer had risen, notified the knight in no uncertain terms that Master Jinn was there on her explicit medical orders and if the knight did not immediately vacate the area she would report him directly to the Head of Healer’s Hall for interference with a healer-patient session. Having removed the distraction, the healer promptly returned to feeding her two Jedi and engaging them in pleasant small talk before eventually moving on to discuss the morning’s newest problem.

“Obi-Wan, you’ve made a great deal of progress, you mustn’t forget that,” said the Healer quietly. “I’m not going to belittle the seriousness of this last episode, but I believe that to a certain extent it was caused by a conjunction of unusual circumstances. You made a significant breakthrough last night, and your shields were still high when you returned. It was late, you were both tired, you skipped the evening meditations. Part of the design of those meditations was to bring the two of you closer in tune, so to speak, so Qui-Gon would be more sensitive to your dreams; that didn’t happen. Taken altogether, you were open to triggering a flashback dream and Qui-Gon had to fight through your shields to pull you out of it. Essentially, this episode simply illustrates that the original problem was extremely serious and we still have more work to do.”

The apprentice rolled up on to one elbow. “How much longer is this going to go on? I know I didn’t get off to a very good start, but since I got the ND I’ve done everything everyone has asked and worked my tail off. I only have so much to give and if this is going to go on forever I don’t know what to do. I may not make it back to senior padawan, let alone knight, if I can’t get back on Mission status.” He laughed bitterly. “If I have to rely on Qui-Gon to take care of me and keep blocking my dreams the rest of my life I may as well be back on Junmek.”

“Padawan Kenobi, that kind of thinking doesn’t help anyone,” Healer Nolspaq said firmly. “I agree we need to resolve this, and we *will* resolve this, but it may take time. I think it is probably more urgent that you resolve the Notice of Deficiencies than it is to move back on Mission status.”

“It’s all connected, though,” Obi-Wan replied with a shrug. “I’ve got the academic part back under control, I just have to keep up with the work. But worrying about whether this stuff in my head is going to keep me off Mission status will make it even harder to focus on my course work and training.”

“Let me ask you a question, Obi-Wan,” said the Healer thoughtfully. “This dream was different from most of the others you’ve had, and there were some things in there you’ve never really brought up before. Was it a reflection of things that actually happened to you while you were in prison?”

The young Jedi flopped back, closed his eyes, and thought for a while. “The first part was pretty typical for what usually happened on a greentag day. Toward the end, though, I guess it was more of a composite of some of the worst things that happened. A lot of those things I had pushed way back in my mind; I suppose I would have to say I was probably still in denial about the worst of it, but that dream forced a lot of things to surface. Maogg really was very strict, sometimes to the point of brutality; sometimes he would punish me for the slightest infraction or lack of enthusiasm, and he knew if I had a choice I’d rather be beaten than be forced into sexual activities.”

Obi-Wan shuddered briefly, forced down the flash of anger. “A lot of things have been coming back this morning. I remember now how he used me for trading with some of the senior trustees; he would make me fellate them or let them do other things to me in return for favors and goods.“ He scrubbed his closed eyes for a while before tiredly dropping his arm again. “Looking back now, I realize I hated those greentag days so much because that was one of the few times we were out of the cell and interacting directly with so many of the prisoner trustees. Force, no wonder I sometimes felt like I was just his personal whore.”

Slowly, the apprentice pushed himself up, sitting crosslegged, head in his hands. He finally continued in a ragged voice, “I do remember another greentag day, I think I had lost my temper over something stupid. . . he let the trustee stick that damned hose in me, I had to suck the trustee’s cock while Maogg fucked me, then Maogg put this homemade wooden plug in me.” He grimaced. “I had to wear that miserable plug the rest of the day, feeling it, knowing it was his semen inside me.”

“Obi-Wan,” the Healer said quietly, “if you have been repressing some of those memories, it would help explain your reactions in not wanting to take public showers and why that dream surfaced after you finally went back to the locker room. Is there anything else that might be lurking around in your subconscious?”

There was a very long silence before the apprentice slowly raised his head, hands dragging off his face to drop into his lap. Obi-Wan finally spoke, voice low and rough, “I don’t know.” Gray eyes were dark with uncertainty. “I’d like to think that was the worst of it,” he paused, swallowed hard, “but I’m not even sure any more which things in my head were real or not.” He closed his eyes, hung his head. “Not remembering those kinds of things earlier. . . not even having a clue I had those things in my head. . . and it was so real in the dream.” The apprentice looked up again, biting his lower lip. “I feel like there are definitely more memories I deliberately buried, but the harder I try to remember, the fuzzier things seem to be. I’m just not certain what’s left in my head any more, what really happened, and it’s getting scary.”

Qui-Gon moved over close enough to offer a comforting hand. Obi-Wan took it, giving his master a grateful smile.

“Repressed memories are not generally something you can force to the surface,” Healer Nolspaq said. “You need to let them return on their own.”

Obi-Wan grimaced as he looked skeptically at the healer, then at his master. He sighed resignedly. “Very well, I won’t try to force things. What do we do now, though?”

“Well, the real goal of the therapy is to enable you to understand what happened to you on Junmek, to come to terms with what happened so you can get on with a normal life. We can continue with the standard therapy, integrate this new information into the discussions and keep hammering away until you can carry on all of your normal activities again. Now that we know there may be suppressed memories, if there are any more we can deal with them as they come up.”

“That could take a long time, couldn’t it?” Obi-Wan said challengingly.

“It is the safest, least painful approach, but, yes, it could take quite a while.”

Obi-Wan sat up on his knees, hands on his thighs, leaning forward. “I don’t care about painful, what is the fastest way?”

“Confront the issues head-on, let one of the advanced master healers go in and help force things to the surface and damn the consequences.” Black eyes locked with gray.

“Wait a minute,” said Qui-Gon quietly, interjecting himself into what was rapidly becoming an intense situation. “I know this is important to you, Padawan, but if those ‘consequences’ make you unable to finish your courses and pass, the Padawan Review Board is not going to be interested in a discussion of different therapy methods. They *will* revoke your promotion and probably put you on additional probation on top of that.”

Both apprentice and Healer looked at Qui-Gon, then back at each other. Obi-Wan was the first to speak. “He’s right, Healer Nolspaq. I made a commitment to the Board to correct the academic and training deficiencies. I can’t let that fall through.” He sighed. “What are our choices, really?”

“The most conservative choice is to continue standard therapy and hope for the best. As I indicated, the fastest, but most extreme measure, would be to have one of the master healers go into your mind and directly help you to ‘clean house’, so to speak. We would normally only use that technique if the repressed memories come back and are too overwhelming.”

Obi-Wan looked at her appraisingly. “And?”

The Healer looked at the young Jedi thoughtfully for a moment. “In your case, I’m going to recommend that you be an even more active participant in your recovery. Not to the extreme of forcing anything, but rather take a positive approach to ‘reclaiming’ yourself.” She paused at Obi-Wan’s puzzled expression. “I want you to continue your normal activities, go to your classes and training. But each day make a conscious decision to do something proactive which allows you to get past some of your earlier inhibitions, such as using the communal showers after your training, spending more time with other people, perhaps keep wearing less clothing in your quarters. As part of your daily meditations, emphasize the successful actions and thoughts that put you in control of your own life and feelings. You also need to consciously emphasize positive thoughts about yourself. Outside the therapy sessions remind yourself several times a day that you are a good person and that what happened to you on Junmek is over.”

“I can do that,” Obi-Wan said, “but is there any additional risk to this approach?”

“It is essentially a more aggressive version of your current standard therapy because I am asking you to directly confront your fears, to take actions which will probably make you uncomfortable. The more aggressive you are, the higher the risk that you might trigger a flood of memories we don’t know about, and we might need to bring in a master healer to help you directly whether you want it or not. Depending on what is really in your head, this approach does sometimes open up more memories than a person can handle and we’ve had patients go into some very deep depressions or suffer other major emotional trauma.”

“This sounds like something I could handle, though. I was already starting to feel more comfortable with less clothes in our quarters and the swimming class helped a lot,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. He looked at Qui-Gon. “I’d like to try it, Master.”

“What do we need to do?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Obi-Wan, are you far enough along in your course work that you can afford to add some extra exercises each day?” asked the Healer.

Obi-Wan thought for a few minutes before answering. “If I can keep the time I was using for the swimming class instead of adding back more sessions, and if I keep working very hard, then, yes.”

“Good. In addition to our regular sessions, I am going to give you some additional meditations to reinforce your self-esteem which will include a morning meditation and some short exercises to repeat during the day. Each day you need to explicitly do something that emphasizes that you have control of your own life. The better you feel about yourself and the more in control of your own life you feel, the closer we can get to recovery,” said the Healer. “If you have any problems with the exercises, any more hidden feelings or strange dreams, it is important that you discuss those with me or your master. I want you to push aggressively, but don’t hide anything if you’re having any problems.”

“I can do that,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “Just give me the instructions and I’ll start today.”

“What do I need to do?” Qui-Gon asked quietly.

“You, Master Jinn,” said the Healer with a smile, “are his support. Be there for the meditations, let him dream but watch over his dreams so you can redirect them or pull him out if necessary, be willing to discuss whatever comes up.” She leaned over to touch their joined hands gently. “Let him hurt when he needs to hurt. Some of the things he needs to do or remember may be unpleasant.”

Qui-Gon swallowed, took a deep breath. He looked at Obi-Wan, who nodded silently. “Very well.”

“Good.” The Healer smiled and stood up. “I believe in you, Obi-Wan. If I didn’t think you wanted this, and could do this, I wouldn’t even have brought it up. I know Qui-Gon believes in you, so the question is going to be whether or not you believe in yourself, truly believe. That’s what you need to think about and work on while you finish this term. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll put together your new exercises and meditations so we can get started.”

 

********************** ***********************

 

The next several days quickly became a blur of constant work, eighteen to twenty hour days punctuated by brief meals and eased by morning and late night meditation sessions. Qui-Gon and his apprentice visited each of Obi-Wan’s instructors again to get another update on his progress, verify that all of his previous assignments and work were now satisfactorily made up except for the mid-course tests he had failed and to ensure they knew exactly what was still owed in each class. Obi-Wan finished a complete first draft of every paper and project coming due, by Ninthday actually polishing off the two papers due the following Fifthday. They could not afford to neglect any of the physical training; the PRB had notified the padawan that they had scheduled an independent evaluation of his proficiency in the new katas and lightsaber drills that were on his training plan and Obi-Wan still had not mastered more than a fourth of the final kata.

As part of his self-assertion program, Obi-Wan had decided that using the communal showers was one of the most difficult but visible ways to prove to himself that he was in charge of his own feelings. Each day after his physical training sessions, the apprentice forced himself into the communal showers. The first attempt had not gone very well; he had practically run in and out of the crowded facility, barely rinsing off the worst of the sweat. By Eighthday he was able to walk in and out calmly and wash properly, although he still reported feeling anxious and practically jumped any time someone brushed against him. In the locker room he even worked up to making small talk with some of his closer friends as long as no one tried to touch him. The Healers were pleased with his initial progress. Qui-Gon deflected any dreams which threatened to disrupt his apprentice’s few hours of rest, even though waking up several times a night was playing havoc with his own sleep.

The one thing Qui-Gon could not guard for his beloved apprentice, however, was the state of the personal thoughts occupying the young man’s head. The grueling schedule left little time for introspection beyond the scheduled meditations and barely enough time for sleep. On the one hand, the new exercises did seem to help; Obi-Wan felt an almost tangible sense of triumph when he consciously chose an activity and successfully carried it out. On the other hand, the uncertainty left in his mind after the revelations of the repressed memories had continued. It had grown slowly but steadily from an occasional passing thought to unbidden visions to a noticeable whine at the fringes of the bond.

By the next Tenthday there was a small dark presence hovering almost constantly at the edge of Obi-Wan’s thoughts, a black cloud no amount of meditation or counseling seemed able to disperse. As it grew, it began to taint both sleeping and waking hours. Each night there seemed to be more and more dreams for Qui-Gon to fend off, but Obi-Wan was still feeling tired when he woke each morning despite his master’s intervention. During the day the unspoken threat of hidden memories lingered like an acid aftertaste in the back of the apprentice’s throat, beginning to sour even his increasingly successful attempts at normal behavior. There were times Obi-Wan almost felt as if there were another person inside his head seeking to control him.

Fatigue was beginning to chip away at both men’s composure; lapses of concentration and flashes of irritation were increasingly evident as the long heavy days passed. On Fourthday a favorite mug clumsily shattered led to exasperated, angry words followed by an hour spent by the shaken apprentice in his master’s arms as both men tried to refocus. By mutual consent they stopped working and spent the rest of that evening in meditation to try to exorcise the ghosts of Junmek.

The next morning was much as any other. The two men felt a little more at ease after their extended meditation and breakfast was relatively lighthearted. By lunch time Obi-Wan was feeling better than he had in days; he had turned in two papers that morning and participated in a spirited class discussion on the underlying reasons for one of the more recent major wars. They were let out early from his last morning class, so he decided to return to his quarters and have a quiet leisurely lunch rather than face the raucous crowd in the dining hall.

Although vaguely disappointed that Qui-Gon had not been able to come back for lunch, Obi-Wan decided to take advantage of the extra hour before his afternoon workout. He kicked off his boots and settled in on the old couch with a datapad. For a while he made good progress, but the material was dry reading and he slouched lower and lower. Without noticing, the datapad finally slipped to the floor as a light snore floated gently across the room.

 

************** ***************

 

The afternoon sun was warmer than usual, shining down pleasantly on the drowsing young man.

“Mmmm,” he murmured, snuggling a little deeper into the soft surface, “yes. . .love you, too, Qui-Gon.”

A stern figure looked down on the sleeping Jedi, blue eyes dark with irritation. “Wake up,” he commanded.

“Just want to sleep a little longer, Master,” Obi-Wan muttered, clutching a pillow to his chest.

The next moment the apprentice found himself flung to the floor. “Hey, what the -“

Maogg dragged the smaller man up by his collars, the rough wall biting into Obi-Wan’s bare back as he was slammed into it. “Jinn is dead,” he hissed angrily. He shook the apprentice, slammed him into the wall again. “You serve me now. Stop wasting your time mooning over what is finished.”

Obi-Wan felt his temper rising but was all too well acquainted with the consequences of letting it go. Shaking his head as he tried to clear it, he bit his tongue to keep the intemperate words in check. Only when he was certain he had his feelings under control again did he trust himself to grind out a reply. “Yes, Mazhten.”

He had waited far too long to answer, however, and a heavy backhand sent the apprentice crashing to the floor. Obi-Wan curled himself into a smaller target on his hands and knees as Maogg stood over him, glowering, hands on his hips. The clansman had grown increasingly irritated and short tempered the longer their imprisonment went on. It seemed almost as if the energy that he would normally have dissipated roaming free through the mountains was being forced back inside, recycled as an increasingly fierce and bitter burning. Even the potential imminence of rescue had not improved his disposition; if anything the tension between them had grown worse since Obi-Wan had finally figured out that Maogg was communicating with other clansmen with his singing at night.

There was a long moment of tense silence. Obi-Wan remained motionless, careful to keep his gaze down. Finally the clansman grunted and stepped back. “If you have time to sleep you’re not working hard enough.” Maogg put his boot on the young man’s butt and shoved him forward. “Get up,” he snarled as Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet. “No more sleeping during the day.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

“We will work out now.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

Obi-Wan kept his thoughts to himself and carefully schooled his features to neutrality as the two men began a long series of exercises. Inwardly, though, he embraced the bittersweet feelings left from the dreams. Even though he believed that Qui-Gon was dead, he had been seeing him more and more frequently in dreams. The dreams varied, some were about being rescued but most were of the two men back on Coruscant, together again. Obi-Wan had become convinced that the dreams were a message from the Force, that somehow Qui-Gon was reaching out to him to tell him not to lose faith, that there was hope for the future and to be strong. Outwardly he continued to serve obediently, but it became harder and harder to bide his time as he came to share Maogg’s belief that escape was truly possible. He kept his mind occupied during the long days by planning ways he might be able to turn the escape to his advantage.

The cold air knifed through him, making the naked Jedi shiver. Maogg methodically continued his nightly inspection, checking condition, joints, pausing over a new bruise, adjusting the fit of the cock ring where it had started to chafe. Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder at the window; the storm had been steadily worsening since early afternoon, snow and ice in a howling wind that had reduced visibility to arm’s length. The clansman finished his checks and gave the apprentice a light slap on the ass, the signal that he was free to go to bed. Obi-Wan quickly relieved himself, brushed his teeth and crawled into the bunk. Maogg slid in behind him as the lights went out.

Obi-Wan lay on his left side, eyes closed, hoping dully that if he feigned sleep the clansman wouldn’t fuck him again before dropping off. The heat from the two bodies made it comfortably warm under the blankets. He could feel Maogg spooned closely behind him. The clansman was still awake, long right arm draped over his bitch as he idly played with a nipple ring. It was quieter than usual; the apprentice could hear his own and Maogg’s breathing, loud in his ears, and the tapping of metal plates on the guard’s boots rang through the corridor as he completed his first round of the night. As the doors closed behind the guard, the clansman stirred.

Putting a hand over Obi-Wan’s mouth, Maogg leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Be silent and listen.” Obi-Wan nodded, so Maogg removed his hand before continuing. “The storm will run for at least three days. Tonight we leave so we will have maximum cover for the escape. There will be diversions at the other end of the prison. When you hear the fire alarms, begin tearing the blankets and sheets and tie them into a rope. I will be removing the bars. We will go out the window on the rope and drop the last several feet. In the maintenance building we will get tools and uniforms. After we remove the control collars, we are going to the lower level to retrieve another prisoner. When we have him, we are going to the outer wall. My people will open the wall from outside. We will leave with the other prisoner while other groups provide more diversions, going cross-country to rejoin my clan.”

Obi-Wan felt a thrill of anticipation run through him. This was his opportunity, the one he had been waiting for all this time if he could just force himself to take advantage of it. His mouth was suddenly dry, his heart thumping wildly as he wondered if Maogg would just beat him senseless and leave him here if he resisted. ~ It’s now or never. Do it, ~ he told himself. Obi-Wan turned over to face Maogg, scrutinizing the bearded face in the dim light from the corridor, then finally spoke, softly and calmly, “No.”

Maogg had been expecting a certain amount of resistance to the idea of stopping to free a third prisoner, but appeared thrown off stride by the quiet certitude of Obi-Wan’s response. “What do you mean, no?”

“We are not going anywhere tonight until we get a few things straight. The first and most important thing is that we leave under my conditions or we don’t leave at all.”

“You do not dictate conditions to me, boy,” hissed the clansman angrily.

“You clearly have a plan and outside help that I couldn’t get otherwise, but there are still a lot of guards in this place. It’s going to take both of us to carry out this plan of yours. I will help you fully and freely, but in return I want something when we get out of here.”

“You will help or I will leave you here for the animals to take.” Maogg’s body was stiff with rising anger. One large hand snaked down, grasped the Jedi’s testicles and began to twist.

After an initial grunt of pain, Obi-Wan continued in a hard whisper, “You will listen to what I have to say or I will call for the guards and tell them what I know.” He paused briefly to swallow, outwardly calm despite the growing pain. “I can put up with the pain and hold you off long enough for them to get here and put you out. I am only asking for something that is fair and honorable.”

The clansman stopping twisting but did not release his grip. He fumed silently for several minutes. “What is it you want?” he finally asked grudgingly.

Encouraged by having gotten this far still in one piece, Obi-Wan continued firmly, “This servitude is abhorrent to me and I would rather die here than stay your property. I will follow your customs; all I am asking is that after we get out of here you give me the opportunity to have a fair fight to regain my freedom.”

“I have already taken you in a fair fight. You are mine.”

“That was not a fair fight at all.”

Obi-Wan took Maogg’s free hand and put it on the Force dampener. “I am a Jedi. The Force, the Mother’s gifts as you know it, it is as much a part of me as the air I breathe. Without the Force, I am not complete, with this collar on part of my soul is ripped from me. It was as if you had tied my hands, blinded my eyes.” He poked a finger in Maogg’s chest and demanded, “Tell me what was so honorable about such a fight, such a tainted victory?”

“You fought well for a cub, how can the Force make such a difference?”

“The Force is the light that guides me, without it I am not whole. You say you have known other Jedi, could you not see the light in them?”

Maogg was silent for a long while. “Perhaps this is so. What exactly do you want?” he finally asked reluctantly.

“When we get back to your people, remove the Force dampener, and face me in a fair fight, your choice of place and weapons. If you win again, I will serve you completely, no questions asked. If I win, I go free and you help me get offplanet.” Obi-Wan waited, barely breathing. He could feel a trickle of sweat gathering as several more minutes slowly passed.

“Very well,” grunted Maogg, finally releasing his firm grip on the apprentice’s testicles. “When we are home, you will have your challenge, though it will make little difference.”

“Thank you,” said Obi-Wan softly.

A few hours later the harsh bell in the corridor began ringing in spaced triplets as the lights came up. All along the corridor prisoners began yelling and screaming as the guards ran out the door. “Fire! Fire!” “Let us out!” “Get us the fuck out!”

Maogg and Obi-Wan immediately put their plan into action. Out the window, into the maintenance building, control collars off and makeshift uniforms on, then they headed back into the high security wing of the building. There were guards at each door and level but they could not stand against the fierce onslaught of the two desperate men. Obi-Wan fought like an ancient berserker, taking out guards and protecting Maogg once they had secured the comatose prisoner on the lower level. Out into the storm, cutting through the electrified fence, waiting anxiously by the outer wall, jubilant when the brilliance of a flashing lightsaber came through the wall and they made their escape.

The endless journey through the snow, into the hills and over the mountains, passed in a daze of dogged endurance. Obi-Wan’s next conscious thought was the pleasurable warmth of soft blankets on his naked skin when he woke up. He stretched, savoring the physical pleasure. He looked around the room with interest, noting the details of the partitioned area in the dim, smoky light.

A large hand caressed his flank. “Good morning, boy.”

Obi-Wan jerked in surprise, then turned on his side to face the other occupant of the bed. “Good morning, Mazhten. May I ask where we are?”

“We are in the winter camp of the of the White Panther clan. You are safe from the southerners now.”

“Thank you, Mazhten. I suppose I should also thank the members of your clan for getting us out of the prison.”

“You will have that opportunity later. The other prisoner we rescued was the chief’s son, my cousin, and this evening there will be a celebration and giving of thanks to the Mother for his safe return. You will also get to meet the Jedi who helped us.”

“And what of our other agreement, Mazhten?” asked Obi-Wan softly.

“I have not forgotten,” replied Maogg. He smiled arrogantly. “Tonight, at the celebration, you will have your chance. The Jedi has already agreed to remove your collar and the council has agreed to allow the challenge. I shall look forward to besting you again.”

“Thank you, Mazhten,” said Obi-Wan. ~ We shall see, my friend, we shall see. ~

The rest of the day passed quickly as Maogg showed Obi-Wan around the camp and introduced him to many of the clanspeople. In old but comfortable clothes, the well-fed and rested apprentice accompanied Maogg to the clan gathering. He gathered all the patience he could muster to sit through the endless ceremonies and recognition of those who had participated in various aspects of the rescue operation. After he and Maogg had been recognized, the last person to be honored was the mysterious Jedi. A tall figure in hooded cloak glided forward to bow to the king, only pulling the hood back when the chief introduced the formidable Jedi Master. Obi-Wan’s heart leapt with joy when Qui-Gon’s worn features were revealed, and it was all he could do to stop himself from running over to throw himself into his master’s arms. Maogg smiled at him as he waited impatiently through the last of the formal ceremonies.

The chief stood up and asked for attention. Qui-Gon stood silently at his side. “Tonight we have before us a most unusual request. As we have already seen, the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi is ranshurr to our clansman Maogg, bested by him in single combat and taken by him to honor the Mother. However, as we have learned from Master Jinn,” he paused to point to Qui-Gon, who gave a small bow, “the southerners put a special device on the Jedi Kenobi, a monstrous device which cut him off from the Mother’s sight and denied him the use of her gifts, that the Jedi call the Force. Because of this, and also in honor of his help in rescuing Laregg, the council has granted a petition to allow Kenobi to challenge for his freedom. Master Jinn will remove the device to restore the Jedi Kenobi to the Mother’s sight, and Maogg shall then choose the manner of challenge.” The chief motioned to Obi-Wan to come forward.

Obi-Wan knelt before the chief, his heart pounding as Qui-Gon approached and knelt beside him. Qui-Gon spoke next. “We thank the people of the White Panther clan for their hospitality, and in particular for this opportunity you have extended to my padawan. The Force is indeed very important to us, and I thank you for allowing me to restore Obi-Wan’s connection to the Force. I would ask for a bit of patience, for it has been many months now since he was lost to the Force, and it may take a few minutes to become readjusted.” The chief signaled his agreement, and Qui-Gon turned to his apprentice.

“Padawan, please lie down.” Obi-Wan stretched out on his back as Qui-Gon drew his lightsaber and adjusted the setting to a short cutting length. The master put one hand on Obi-Wan’s neck and spoke very quietly, “Do you really have to do this challenge, Obi-Wan? Restoring the Force this suddenly can be very risky and there are other ways I can try to get you out of here.”

“Thank you, Master, but I need to do this for myself.” He smiled and laid a reassuring hand on Qui-Gon’s knee.

“Very well. Assuming you don’t go into psychic shock from the long deprivation, there will still probably be several minutes of disorientation. Our training bond will anchor you, just close your eyes and focus on me.” He held the collar steady and brought the blade closer. “Just remember, no matter what happens, Obi-Wan, I am here for you.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes and focused as the lightsaber sliced through the collar and it fell away.

Light.

White light pouring from a molten sun.

Blue light cascading from a starry sky.

Warm light, his master’s presence reaching to him, calling to him.

Soft green light, framing his master’s face.

Blue light and green, meeting, joining in a joyous explosion as they met across the bond.

The Force poured through him, a warm welcoming tingle, spreading throughout his body.

He laughed, let the light flood through him, carry him, energizing him as if trying to make up for the long miserable months of darkness.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, saw Qui-Gon’s anxious expression, felt his concern.

“How do you feel?”

“Wonderful,” breathed Obi-Wan. He smiled, a radiant expression that was only a pale reflection of the magnificent light within. He sat up, then let his master help him to his feet. Upright, he clung to Qui-Gon’s arm for a moment as his focus adjusted, a moment of dizziness that quickly passed. He took several deep breaths, remembering to center on the bond so he didn’t drift away and get lost in the luminescence. One step, two, another deep breath, then several steps, up and down the length of the room. This felt right, so good, once more at one with the Force. The buzzing of conversation in the room seemed only a distant murmur.

Obi-Wan returned to Qui-Gon’s side and they both bowed to the chief as the room quieted again. “I join my master in thanking the people of the White Panther clan for their hospitality and for rescuing me from the prison.” He turned to face Maogg, who waited patiently in the center of the room. “I wish also to thank Maogg. He conducted himself in an honorable fashion according to the customs of your people. However, he did not realize how difficult it was for me to be cut off from my own ways and the Force, and has agreed to allow me to challenge for my freedom now instead of serving the full term of service.” The apprentice paused, let the tension gather. “I therefore challenge thee, Maogg of the White Panther clan, to fair and open combat, to serve thee freely if you win, to return to my own people if I should prevail. What are your terms, sir?”

Maogg smiled cockily. “The Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi was a worthy opponent, and has served well. To honor his service and his help, I grant this challenge, and thank the council for approving the petition.” He bowed in the direction of the council and chief, then put his hands on his hips. His bare upper torso shone sleekly, his stance reflecting his usual arrogant self-confidence. “At the council’s request, the combat shall be unarmed and to the first yielding. It shall be now, and completely unarmed and unclothed. I look forward to a most interesting fight, my little Jedi.”

Both men bowed, then retreated to opposite ends of the long building as the center was cleared to make room for the combat. Obi-Wan did some light stretching as Qui-Gon reminded him about defense, using his quickness against the clansman’s reach and mass, not to reveal his Force enhanced abilities too soon. The apprentice removed his clothing and set it aside, reminding himself that the clanspeople had no body modesty and would see nothing unusual about fighting in the nude.

The chief was standing again, calling for silence. Qui-Gon gave one last squeeze on the shoulder, whispering to him to relax and focus. The two men were called to the center of the room, and the chief gave the signal to start.

The two naked men circled warily in the warm lamplight. Yellow light gleamed softly on hard muscled bodies, one large and imposing, the other short and compact. Maogg was confident and aggressive; his reputation as one of the clan’s very finest warriors was well deserved. Obi-Wan, however, had far more at stake in the outcome of this duel and was determined not to lose.

Both men respected each other’s abilities and the first several minutes were a series of wary feints. Maogg, despite his lack of understanding of how the Force was actually going to help his opponent, was yet intelligent enough to realize that Obi-Wan believed that it gave him an advantage. The clansman was aggressive but not foolish and used his opening maneuvers to try to determine the apprentice’s current level of abilities. Obi-Wan was content to stay on the defensive; his years of experience in sparring against larger opponents enabled him to stay out of Maogg’s grasp while studying his style and reactions. One early advantage to the clansman was that Obi-Wan found he was bothered more than he had expected by having to fight naked; it was too reminiscent of his prison experience and he found himself having to work hard to stay focused as they grappled skin on skin.

The crowd of clanspeople around the edge of the building cheered, stamped and whistled as the fight progressed. Both men were sweating from the warmth and exertion but still breathing relatively easily due to the extensive conditioning program they had been through. Maogg became more aggressive as he saw little change in the Jedi’s fighting style from the first time he had vanquished him. He stalked and pounced, time after time, forcing the action. Wrestling holds became more difficult as the flowing sweat made skin slippery. Obi-Wan’s confidence grew as he continued to hold his own against the bigger man and he began to use subtle Force nudges to help his moves and countermoves.

The first few times Obi-Wan used Force enhancement Maogg seemed to be aware that something wasn’t quite right, but the puzzled expression on his face led Obi-Wan to believe that the clansman didn’t understand what was happening. Maogg became a little warier, his moves a little less aggressive as the young Jedi began pushing the action. Both men got in some telling blows as the fight continued, bruises beginning to darken their pale skins. The crowd’s noisy exhortations spurred them on as hot blood flowed from numerous cuts and scratches.

Obi-Wan’s growing reliance on his Force abilities was almost his undoing as he forgot just how skilled and adaptable his opponent was. The apprentice tried for a lower body takedown, nudging his opponent hard to his left. Instead of trying to fight or counter the Force shove, Maogg used the extra power to increase his own momentum as he rolled down and left. He came up almost behind Obi-Wan as he sprawled awkwardly from the missed takedown move. Maogg caught the apprentice in an upper body hold and together they rolled over twice before their momentum carried them to their feet.

Instead of trying for a killing move or a takedown, Maogg surprised the apprentice by simply wrapping his arms around the Jedi’s shoulders, locking his hands together behind Obi-Wan’s neck. He moved only enough to keep the squirming young man from getting away or kicking his feet from under him.

“I shall soon reclaim what is mine, boy,” said Maogg, breath hot on the apprentice’s neck.

“Never,” snarled Obi-Wan as he futilely tried to get an elbow down far enough for a gut blow.

“You know you are mine,” whispered Maogg, letting the two hot sweaty bodies rub together. “Serve me and I will take care of you. It is the right way of things.”

“No!” yelled Obi-Wan’s mouth as his mind was stabbed with doubt.

“You gave yourself to me,” Maogg said softly as he thrust his hips forward a little. “It was your choice. Remember, boy, you came to me on your knees and asked to serve me.”

A surge of anger and disgust toppled Obi-Wan from his center as he recoiled from the contact. Memories of his submission, shivering on his knees, pushed him further and further into chaos. He struggled to retain his contact with the Force as more memories came flooding back.

Maogg seemed content to dance around the floor, using only enough strength to retain his armlock and keep the two bodies sliding together. Obi-Wan’s squirming only served to bring him into closer contact with his foe as he felt his control of the Force slip away like sand through his fingers.

“Why do you keep fighting, boy?” whispered Maogg seductively. “You begged to serve me and I granted your request.” He licked Obi-Wan’s ear as he thrust his hips forward again. “Come back to your rightful place, in the Mother’s eyes you know you belong to me.”

Outwardly the apprentice continued to fight, but inside he could feel himself sliding into darkness. ~ It’s true. You *did* go to him, begged to serve. ~ He tried to kick his way free, but Maogg kept him pinned. ~ On your knees, you went to him. You were his Jedi bitch, it’s all you were good for, it’s all you are good for now. ~ A voice kept whispering despairingly in his head. From a very great distance, Obi-Wan seemed to hear a strange ringing.

“You know you belong to me, you want to serve me,” whispered Maogg again. “It is the Mother’s will. Come to me, I will take care of you. You know you want it.”

~ He’s right. You gave yourself to him, go back where you belong, no one else wants a used bitch like you. ~ The voice in his head pounded at him as Obi-Wan felt himself weaken, wavering on the edge of a precipice. Again from far away he heard a now frantic ringing and wailing that he dimly recognized as medical monitors on overload. He quickly dismissed the impossible distraction from his thoughts.

Maogg seemed to sense his opportunity as his opponent’s struggles began to weaken. He swept Obi-Wan’s feet from under him, putting him down to his hands and knees. Keeping Obi-Wan in a head lock with one arm, he used his other hand to rub the apprentice’s belly as he continued to whisper alluring inducements. The clansman thrust his hips forward, his hard cock rubbing between the cheeks of the apprentice’s ass.

Obi-Wan was immobilized with shock when Maogg’s hand swept down to fondle his penis and his well trained body betrayed him by rising swiftly to a full erection. “No,” he moaned despairingly. ~ Is it true? Am I really just this bastard’s whore? ~

With one last convulsive effort, Obi-Wan twisted around far enough to foil Maogg’s effort to put his cock into the apprentice’s ass. He got one hand up just enough to grab a handful of hair, his head cranked around just far enough to look into a pair of laughing blue eyes.

Blue eyes. He fought to remember, desperately trying to silence the voice in his head telling him to submit. Vaguely, a whisper on the wind, another voice called to him.

Obi-Wan wavered, caught in a frozen moment in time, his body suspended without feeling, without life.

Blue eyes, soft but commanding. The voice cried out, an anxious plea. “Come back to me, Obi-Wan.”

Blue eyes, hard and demanding. “You belong to me, boy. It is the Mother’s will.”

Blue eyes, deep and pleading. “You are my padawan, Obi-Wan. You belong with me.”

Blue eyes, arrogant and self-confident. “Come to me. You have no choice, you must serve me.”

Blue eyes, bright with tears. “Come back to me, Padawan. I love you.”

The moment of decision crystallized, a sharp knife slashing across his consciousness to shear away the fear and uncertainty clouding his vision. As the fog cleared, memories flooded back, all of the pain and ugliness, and the beliefs that had helped him survive. “I am a Jedi,” he whispered. A little louder, as he remembered vividly what those beliefs had cost him the last time he had been forced to choose. “I *am* a Jedi.”

Maogg paused in surprise as he felt the body beneath suddenly stiffen in resistance.

Obi-Wan twisted further around, looked into Maogg’s eyes. “I am a Jedi,” he snarled. “I *can* choose what I do with my life.” He smiled as he continued softly, now at peace with himself. “And I choose *not* to submit.”

Maogg roared as he tried to regain his hold on his newly energized opponent. Obi-Wan suddenly relaxed and let himself go limp. The maneuver surprised Maogg, who shifted his hold, thinking he could put the apprentice down on the ground. As they moved, Obi-Wan counterattacked with a sharp blow to the ribs, followed by a knee to the groin. Maogg grunted and jumped back.

Obi-Wan rolled and sprang lightly to his feet. He was suddenly suffused with heat, a warm light in his mind as he felt Qui-Gon’s presence, urging him to focus, to center himself. The apprentice smiled again as he reached out to the Force, patiently steadying himself as he regained his control.

Once more the opponents warily circled, but by now the extended combat was beginning to affect even their well conditioned bodies. Sweat poured down, reflecting the light, muscles burned, air was gasped through hot, raw throats. Maogg attacked, seeking to wear down his opponent with his strength and weight, but still Obi-Wan danced and countered. The blows became more vicious and desperate as the fight progressed.

Maogg pushed the Jedi to the edges of the clearing; Obi-Wan began drawing on his agility and Force-enhanced acrobatic skills to roll and flip, seemingly escaping by the narrowest of margins. Blood mingled freely with the sweat, liberally spattering the front rows of the crowd. Maogg’s assault continued relentlessly, angrily driving the Jedi around the floor. Obi-Wan used all of his patience and skills to defend himself, letting the fight come to him, staying in his center, waiting for the right moment. He was still vaguely aware of Qui-Gon over their bond, encouraging him, supporting him.

The end came suddenly. Maogg sent Obi-Wan to the floor with a stunning two handed blow, and with a roar of triumph came after the apprentice crouched on his knees, shaking his head dizzily. Drawing on a surge of Force energy, Obi-Wan blindly launched himself in a spinning flip over the clansman’s head. As he started to come down, he caught Maogg with a devastating kick to the upper back, driving the breath from him. He followed immediately with a sweeping kick which sent the towering clansman heavily to the hard floor. Without pausing, Obi-Wan dived on the recumbent form, drawing another strangled whoof of lost air, and grabbed the right arm. He pulled it around behind the clansman and, with both legs locked around Maogg’s lower body to restrain him, Obi-Wan twisted the arm around and pinned it.

The room fell silent save for the labored breathing of the two fighters, loud in the still air. Maogg fruitlessly thrashed and tried to dislodge Obi-Wan, but the Jedi’s hold was too strong. The apprentice firmly blocked out the tantalizing sensations as his cock rubbed the hot, sweaty ass beneath him. Obi-Wan twisted the arm some more, and there was a faint cracking of bone and sinews.

“Do you yield?” gasped Obi-Wan.

The only answer was another desperate heave.

“Maogg, I have never lied to you, and I swear to you I will break it if you don’t yield,” growled the adamant apprentice, twisting the arm a little more.

The clansman was silent and unmoving for a long moment. Finally, he raised his other arm and slapped the ground. “I yield,” he grunted.

Obi-Wan released the hold and helped Maogg to his feet. They embraced almost drunkenly, then staggered over to kneel before the chief.

“Hear me, my people,” intoned the chief, arms raised. “We have been privileged this night to witness a mighty combat between two great warriors who have honored us with their efforts. The Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, in lawful challenge given and accepted, has bested the warrior Maogg. The White Panther clan honors its commitments; the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi is declared free of all obligations and service, and we shall help the Jedi to return home. Rise, Maogg and Obi-Wan, and enjoy the hospitality of the clan.”

Amidst the cheering of the clanspeople, the two men rose and embraced again.

“Obi-Wan, you fought well. . .and bested me. Go with honor and friendship,” said Maogg, still gasping, holding his hand out.

“I thank for your help. . .and for letting me challenge you. You were a worthy opponent. . .and I wish you well,” responded Obi-Wan, shaking hands, his own breathing labored. “Go with honor and friendship.”

Exhausted but happy, Obi-Wan turned, seeking the one person who mattered most to him. He lurched toward his Master, blackness overcoming him as he stumbled and fell into the welcoming arms.

“I love you, Qui-Gon,” murmured the apprentice as he drifted into darkness.

 

************** ****************

 

The lights were dim and it took Obi-Wan several moments to orient himself. The first sensation was his right hand; it was hot, enclosed by another’s flesh. His eyes burned; shaking his head, beads of sweat went flying from his face. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he tried to look around, surprised by how stiff and sore he felt.

He was vaguely aware of an excited buzz somewhere in the room.

“Master Healer, he’s awake.”

To his left, Healer Nolspaq looked at him with relief as Master Healer Hregan and Healer v’braa hurried into the room. On his right side sat his master, eyes half closed, face pale and drawn, sweat dripping and staining his tunic, both hands wrapped around Obi-Wan’s right hand. Looking down, the blankets were thrown back, pajamas and sheets soaked in sweat. He blinked his eyes several times to clear them. Trying to sit up, he realized he was incredibly tired, and slipped back down.

“How do you feel, Obi-Wan?” asked Healer Nolspaq gently as she wiped his face with a wet cloth.

“Exhausted,” croaked the apprentice.

Qui-Gon released his hand and poured a glass of water from the bedside carafe. Obi-Wan started to take it, but his hand was shaking, so his master helped him hold the glass. The apprentice sipped gratefully at the cool liquid, smiling as it slipped soothingly down his sore throat.

“What happened?” asked Obi-Wan, his voice stronger now. He took several deep breaths to help clear his head.

The other Jedi looked at each other for a moment before Qui-Gon quietly spoke. “What is the last thing you remember before you woke up, Obi-Wan?”

The apprentice frowned as he tried to collect his thoughts. “I had classes as usual...turned in the papers I had finished...had lunch....“ He paused a moment, then his expression lightened. “I remember now, we got out early and I went back to our quarters for lunch. I had some extra time so I was catching up on some reading...guess I must have dozed off.”

“The afternoon of Fifthday I went to our quarters when you didn’t show up for sparring,” Qui-Gon said. “When I got there, you were on the couch but you weren’t asleep, you were unconscious. When I couldn’t wake you, I carried you to the –“

“Wait a minute,” Obi-Wan interrupted, “what do you mean, on Fifthday? What’s today?”

“It’s the evening of Eighthday,” Qui-Gon said gently. “You’ve been unconscious over three days.”

“Eighthday?” Obi-Wan whispered, eyes wide.

The Master Healer nodded silently in affirmation.

“You were very deep into some sort of trance until now,” Qui-Gon said. “Your shields were so dense it took us most of those three days to work through them.” He reached out to touch his apprentice’s hand. “You kept withdrawing further and further, almost as if your energy was being diverted somewhere else. I kept trying to send positive thoughts your way, but today . . . .” Qui-Gon’s voice caught as he tightened his grip on the smaller hand. “This afternoon you were thrashing around, sweating, like you were trying to fight, but then. . .you stopped breathing several times. . .I thought we had lost you, Obi-Wan.”

“Master,” breathed the apprentice, “oh, Qui-Gon, I’m so sorry. But I’m here now.”

Qui-Gon swallowed as a weak smile chased itself across his face. “Yes, you’re back, and that’s what is important.” He paused. “Two of the Master Healers joined with me, and we were finally able to break through far enough for me to contact you. It was still a struggle, I could feel you fighting, but I couldn’t see, all I could do was keep calling, and calling, but you finally came back.” Qui-Gon held his apprentice’s hand open, kissed the palm, then reached out with one hand to tenderly caress the pale cheek.

The healers had been intently studying the various monitors and devices as they conferred among themselves. Finally Master Hregan nodded and turned to the apprentice.

“You were so far away we weren’t sure we were going to be able to pull you back out, Padawan. Your master followed you in, anchored you, and reached out to us also, forming the critical link so we could try to pull you out through him if we had to. Fortunately you were able to make it back on your own.” The Healer paused. “That was a very. . .intense experience, even to us on the periphery who were only seeing the reflection of it. I don’t think I have ever seen anything quite like it before. Do you remember what happened to you and where you were?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes to concentrate. He lay quietly for a long moment, then suddenly gasped as a flood of memories poured in.

“Junmek!” he almost shouted. “I was on Junmek. I was in the prison, and it was cold, so cold, he hit me, and fucked me, the snow came and we fought the guards,” the words came tumbling out faster as he started to tremble, “there was another prisoner, and snow, and Maogg, back at the camp, a fight, and and –“

“Obi-Wan, stop!” Qui-Gon grabbed both arms of his rattled apprentice, then held him tight. “Slow down, Obi-Wan, you’re home, you’re safe.”

For several minutes the only sounds in the room were the harsh breathing of the young Jedi and the muted humming of the medical monitors.

Obi-Wan drew a deep, shaky breath, struggled to sit up. Confusion swirled in his dark gray eyes. A tentative hand reached out to touch Qui-Gon’s face.

“You. . . you were dead, Master.” He ran one finger along the bearded jawline. “But you came back. We were at the camp where Maogg’s clan lived.” A pause as he frowned, trying to remember. “You fought Maogg. . .but I fought Maogg also. It felt so real . . .” He shook his head, then suddenly stilled, his face turning ghostly white. A monitor rang shrilly as Obi-Wan fell limply back to the bed.

The healers sprang into action, injecting stimulants, checking readings. Qui-Gon gathered the still body into his arms, calling, reaching urgently across their training bond to call his apprentice back. He held him close as the grey eyes slowly opened.

“Master. . . .“

“Obi-Wan, what’s wrong?”

“I remembered,” Obi-Wan whispered.

“I don’t understand.”

“Everything.” Obi-Wan shook his head, reached to hold his master. “In the dream, I was fighting Maogg, but it was really all about making choices, and I remembered.” His voice shook. “All of it, everything that happened on Junmek, the choices I had to make.” Obi-Wan grabbed his master’s tunics tightly, looked into his eyes. “I really am a Jedi, Master. You see, I couldn’t do it, couldn’t hurt someone else, couldn’t take the easy way out. So in the end I really won. He couldn’t take everything away, don’t you see?”

“It’s alright, Padawan,” murmured Qui-Gon, thoroughly confused. “Of course you are a Jedi, a good Jedi. But what are you talking about?”

“You have remembered the other things that happened while you were in prison?” Healer Nolspaq asked gently.

“Yes, yes,” Obi-Wan said intensely. His eyes unfocused, looking inward. “I can remember all of it, every single day.” He shuddered, closed his eyes, voice dropping to a whisper. “No wonder I tried to push it away. Oh Force. . . I don’t feel very good.“ Reaching blindly, he found his master’s hand and held on desperately.

“Master Hregan, with all due respect, I think it would be better if we let Padawan Kenobi rest for a while with his master,” Healer Nolspaq said quietly as she moved toward the bed with a waste container. “I will stay to monitor him.”

The Master Healer scrutinized the monitors, then looked closely at Obi-Wan. Finally he nodded. “Very well, since you are his primary Healer. But I expect you to notify us immediately if there are any problems.”

“Of course, Master Healer.”

The room was quiet, even the monitors subsiding into a dull hum. The Healer retreated to a chair across the room after turning down the lights. Qui-Gon sat on the bed and held Obi-Wan, occasionally wiping his face with a cool, damp cloth. The stillness held for almost an hour, only occasionally disturbed by the minor shifting of one of the room’s occupants or the soft beeping of a monitor.

“Master?” Obi-Wan murmured. The apprentice drew a deep breath.

“Yes, Padawan?”

“I’d. . .I think I would like to take a shower, please.” Obi-Wan pulled at the still sweat-damp sleeping shirt. “I feel awfully dirty and sticky.”

Qui-Gon looked up as Healer Nolspaq walked over.

“He should be fine, Master Jinn,” Healer Nolspaq said softly after a quick survey of the monitors. “He can take a quick shower while we change the bed linens. There are towels and clean nightclothes in the fresher.”

“Thank you, I’d like that.” Obi-Wan carefully swung himself out of bed, Qui-Gon holding him steady as he stood up. After an initial moment of dizziness, he was able to slowly walk to the fresher, Qui-Gon still beside him. They stopped at the door.

“Are you going to be alright, Padawan?” asked Qui-Gon quietly.

“Yes, Master. I promise I’ll call if I need help,” replied Obi-Wan. He hesitated a moment, then reached up to pull Qui-Gon’s head down long enough to ghost a soft kiss across his lips. “Thank you, Master.” He smiled and went into the fresher.

Feeling much better after showering and changing into dry pajamas, Obi-Wan emerged from the fresher to find a freshly made bed and a tray of food. Qui-Gon rose from his chair, but Obi-Wan waved off his assistance. The apprentice carefully walked over and climbed into bed as his Master settled back into his chair beside the bed.

 

****************** *********************

 

Obi-Wan nibbled on a cookie after deciding that the breddafruit he had eaten was going to stay down. His companions were finishing their sandwiches and fruit.

Master Healer Hregan and Healer v’braa came back into the room.

“You’re looking fitter, Padawan,” the Master Healer said. “How do you feel?”

“I feel much better, Master Healer,” Obi-Wan replied. He took a sip of tea, feeling the unspoken questions hanging in the air.

There was a long silence as the Master Healer slowly surveyed the instruments, glanced at Healer Nolspaq, then went to stand beside the bed. “Are you ready to talk about what happened earlier tonight, Padawan?” he asked quietly but firmly.

“Yes, Master Healer,” Obi-Wan said. He held the mug of tea between his hands, savoring the warmth. Slowly he looked around the room, his gaze finally settling on his master. “For a while now I’ve known that I have repressed memories of what happened on Junmek, and I think that it was starting to bother me more and more. I was having trouble concentrating, trouble sleeping and was getting tired.” He stopped as Qui-Gon nodded in affirmation.

Obi-Wan took another long sip of tea, letting the hot sweetness trickle down his throat, then set the mug aside. He settled back into the pile of pillows, then linked his fingers behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

“The last thing I really remember was sitting back on the couch, reading. I must have dozed off and slipped into a dream. To me, it seemed like I was reliving those last few days in prison.” He paused, frowned a little. “It wasn’t exactly like it really happened, but pretty close until we got ready to escape. I forced Maogg to agree to let me fight after we got out.” He drew a deep breath, glanced at Qui-Gon. “When we got back to the camp, things turned out very differently. My master was there, but he took the Force dampener off and I fought Maogg instead of Qui-Gon. Even with the Force, it was a hard fight. We fought naked. . . . Maogg kept talking to me, touching me.” Obi-Wan fell silent, his eyes half-closed. The others waited patiently.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. “It was a very near thing,” he said softly. “Maogg almost had me convinced to give up. . . I couldn’t control the Force, kept thinking how I had submitted to him earlier.” He sat up in a cross-legged position, leaned forward. Obi-Wan reached out to his master, gently grasped the offered hand. “It was a very close thing, but I could feel Qui-Gon’s support, feel him reaching out to me. Then Maogg talked about choices, that I belonged to him because it was the Mother’s will. . . it was then it all came back. I remembered everything that had happened in prison. All the pain, all the humiliation. . . all the hatefulness.” His grip tightened on Qui-Gon’s hand. “I *had* made the choice to submit to Maogg, I *did* do a lot of things I wasn’t proud of, but when it really mattered I also made a choice to stay true to my Jedi principles. That was one of the worst things that happened when I was in there, and it was after that I started trying to deliberately block out the memories.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the humming of the monitors. Obi-Wan reached out with his free hand for another sip of tea, carefully put the mug back down.

“You know, Maogg and I used to argue a lot,” Obi-Wan finally said, seemingly at random. “Well, perhaps discuss is a more appropriate word, since Maogg almost never raised his voice. He was very good at knowing how far he could push me, what sort of punishment I would hate the worst, but not at understanding why I did some things relatively willingly and didn’t like to do other things. Even after we got back to the camp, though, and I saw more of how his people lived, how they thought, I still don’t think I really understood him. I’m not sure I ever will.”

Qui-Gon tried unsuccessfully to hide the grin that sprang unbidden to his lips.

“What?” Obi-Wan demanded, sitting up straighter, an indignant expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said placatingly. “I wasn’t laughing at you; I was remembering something Maogg said. We were talking that last morning at the White Panther camp, and Maogg said almost exactly the same thing about not understanding you.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan shrugged. He cocked an eyebrow thoughtfully. “We did seem to talk past each other a lot.” He leaned back, nestling into the pile of pillows again, but retained a firm grip on Qui-Gon’s hand.

“In any event, in prison I belonged to Maogg. Not only did I provide personal service, he used me to trade for things. A lot of our discussions were about that, but I usually lost, of course. It got worse the longer we were in there because Maogg became less tolerant, and I guess I got more used to just putting up with things so I wouldn’t be punished. The last few tendays in prison it seemed like we barely even spoke to each other at all.”

“So there was one particular event where you had to make a choice?” Healer Nolspaq tried to gently nudge the apprentice back on track.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Among the high security prisoners there tended to be small groups led by the strongest prisoners and a number of prisoners who sort of floated around the edges, so to speak. On our floor, about eight cells down from mine, there were two ‘floaters’. One was an older man, Vendru, who was lovers with a young prisoner, Chunja. Chunja was a big guy, really strong, but at some time somebody had hurt him very badly. He had a huge scar on one side of his head and was basically simple-minded. Vendru took care of him, and they had enough money that their families sent to them that they could usually bribe the groups to leave them alone.”

Obi-Wan paused as if thinking.

“We had been in prison for many tendays when Maogg was approached by a prisoner named Gasil, one of the nastiest, most vicious group leaders. Gasil proposed a deal: if Maogg would have me fight Chunja, then Gasil would cut him in on the profits from betting and get him a new pair of boots. Maogg thought it was perfectly reasonable. He needed the boots and he figured that Chunja wouldn’t do any significant damage to me.” Obi-Wan paused again thoughtfully. “It probably would have been a difficult fight. Chunja may have been mentally impaired, but he was a lot bigger than me and could fight well if pushed. I knew I would have to hurt him to win, and they would expect me to fuck him afterwards. Of course, when Maogg explained what he wanted me to do, I refused. We argued for two days.”

Stirring restlessly, Obi-Wan fell silent again. He sighed, rubbed his chin with the back of his free hand, stared down at the blanket covering his legs. He worried his lower lip between his teeth.

“Did Maogg punish you for refusing?” Healer Nolspaq softly asked, trying to encourage the apprentice to continue.

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath, held it for a long minute before slowly letting it out. Eyes still fixed downward, he finally answered. “It was our most serious disagreement since I first submitted to him. Maogg didn’t want to permanently damage me; we both knew that. He also knew what sorts of punishments I hated the most.” Obi-Wan hunched his shoulders, dropping his head. “Maogg gave me a choice. I could fight Chunja, or he. . . . “ Obi-Wan’s voice dropped to a whisper as his grip on Qui-Gon’s hand tightened. “He threatened to let Gasil and his men fuck me in the exercise yard. Either way he figured he would get new boots from Gasil.”

The room was quiet again save for the Obi-Wan’s ragged breathing. A monitor bleated plaintively to mark the apprentice’s spiking heart beats.

“What happened?” Healer Nolspaq nudged again.

“There were two days until the next exercise session, so I had two days to think about it. Vendru knew. . .Force, everyone on the floor had heard. When we went to eat together, I had to watch Vendru both nights. He was sitting with Chunja, making sure he ate, but he’d look at me and I could see he was sick with fear and hatred, knowing he couldn’t possibly outbid Gasil to make Maogg stop.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes, shuddered a little. “Chunja just sat there, smiling like he always did, totally oblivious to anything except Vendru. He had the biggest, softest brown eyes, like a baby showla bear. . . .” Obi-Wan drifted off, lost in memories.

Stirring with an abrupt start, Obi-Wan sat up straight. He turned to Qui-Gon, reached to hold both hands. “I couldn’t do it, Master,” Obi-Wan said softly, looking into Qui-Gon’s eyes, seeking reassurance. “I told Maogg I wouldn’t fight. I couldn’t hurt others to save myself from punishment.”

“You did the right thing, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said firmly, a smile on his face and in his eyes. He raised Obi-Wan’s hands to softly kiss the knuckles. “It was a hard thing to do, but it was the right thing. I am very proud of you, my Padawan.”

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan replied. He paused, took a deep breath. “Maogg didn’t say anything more; in the end he didn’t seem to really care what I decided as long as he got what he wanted. We went out to the yard as usual. The exercise groups were supposed to be random selection, but Gasil had bribed the guard to ensure that his entire group was there. There was Gasil and his personal bitch, plus Gasil’s five men and their two bitches. When we got to the yard, Maogg took my clothes and tied a rope to the ring in my penis. He and Gasil negotiated for a few minutes. Maogg wanted more if the bitches participated and Gasil wanted to pay less because Maogg insisted they use lube. They finally struck a deal and Maogg handed over the rope and a big bottle of oil.”

Obi-Wan stopped, closed his eyes. He swallowed hard, then sat silently for a few minutes. Opening his eyes again, he glanced around the room before fixing his gaze back on Qui-Gon.

“For almost two hours I had to put up with whatever Gasil and his bunch wanted while I just tried to blank everything out,” Obi-Wan continued in a flat, emotionless tone. “They paraded me around, pulling on the rope, spit on me, put me down on hands and knees so they could fuck me. They put a bitch at my mouth and ass and were taking bets to see who would come first. I think I fellated every single one of them and Gasil sold blow jobs to several of the other prisoners.” He paused, licked dry lips. “Maogg did keep a very close eye on them and made sure they didn’t do any major physical damage, but it was incredibly humiliating. The last thing I remember before I was given back was being on my knees, head down. Gasil fucked me again, then pissed on me with this big smirk on his face.”

Stopping again, Obi-Wan swallowed a couple of times, coughed. Qui-Gon pulled his hands free to give Obi-Wan a glass of water. The apprentice smiled gratefully, took several sips.

“When Gasil handed me back over, Maogg punched him in the face.” A small rueful smile flashed across Obi-Wan’s face. “I guess pissing on me wasn’t part of the deal. It didn’t go any further, though, because the guards were already rounding everyone up to go back in. I remember Gasil still had that big smirk on his face, even with blood pouring out his nose.” He paused, leaned back into his pillows again, glass of water still in hand. “Anyway, a couple of days later when we got back to our cell after our next exercise session, there was a nice pair of new boots, a new belt, and a big box of fresh fruit, the good stuff, not the seconds or thirds we were usually fed. Physically, I recovered in a few days. I do have to say that Maogg took his duties as mazhten very seriously; aside from making sure I wasn’t ‘damaged’, he also made a point of sharing the fruit equally with me. A day later Gasil and his people were transferred to different floors.” Obi-Wan took several more sips of water, then handed the glass back to Qui-Gon. “It was after that incident that I actively started trying to push a lot of memories away, to lock them away so I wouldn’t have to relive them any more.” He shook his head, a half smile briefly on his lips. “Obviously I was more successful than I realized. I brought back a lot of baggage from Junmek that I didn’t even know I had.”

Master Healer Hregan stirred.

“Padawan Kenobi, you’ve been through a very difficult experience and have come a long way back. I still have some concerns, however. You believe you have now recovered all of your memories and are no longer blocking anything out. The way you recovered them, however, was very traumatic; after all, you did come very close to dying while you were so deep in that trance.” Smiling sympathetically, he moved closer, standing by the edge of the bed. “Would you allow me, or at least your master, past your shields? Physically, you are recovering, but it would be good to have your mental well-being checked to see if there are any other problems.”

Obi-Wan bit his lower lip as he tried to sink further back into the pillows. He had always disliked having to be treated by the healers, but he hated having anyone else inside his head. His gaze swung around, from the Master Healer’s professional interest, Healer Nolspaq’s kindly reassuring smile, finally settling on Qui-Gon’s familiar features.

“Master?” Obi-Wan asked hesitantly.

“Yes, Padawan?”

“If someone has to look, I’d rather it be you.”

“Of course, Padawan. But I should bring the Master Healer along so he can verify your status.”

Obi-Wan sighed, nodded resignedly. He grasped Qui-Gon’s hand, closed his eyes, and slowly lowered his shields.

For almost twenty minutes the two Jedi Masters carefully sifted and probed, looking closely for signs of trauma, breaks in thought patterns or other lingering indications of damage. Although he tried not to be invasive, Qui-Gon could not avoid being drawn into the apprentice’s web of memories as they searched deeper into his thoughts. His expression remained neutral, but his grip on his apprentice’s hand became tighter and tighter, the flesh almost turning white before the Master Healer finally touched Qui-Gon’s shoulder to signal him to withdraw.

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath as he felt the other presence leave his mind. Opening his eyes, he looked anxiously at the Master Healer. “Well?” he asked. “What’s the verdict?”

Master Healer Hregan cocked an eyebrow. “On the whole, it would appear that you have made good progress toward recovery as I found no indications of any major abnormalities. You do seem to have recovered a great deal of information about the events on Junmek. Some of that is still a bit fuzzy, though, and there are indications that there may still be some residual impacts from the depth of the memory blocking you did.” He turned to Healer Nolspaq. “There is one thing that is puzzling, though. Healer Nolspaq, your reports indicated that Padawan Kenobi had developed heightened uncertainty and mental fearfulness after the incident with the revelation of the ‘green tag’ memories. I found no such traces in Padawan Kenobi’s mind, nor was there anything untoward in his training bond with Master Jinn.”

“It was definitely there,” Healer Nolspaq replied. She looked at Obi-Wan. “I could feel it in his Force aura at our last few sessions. It was even having a physical impact because he was not sleeping well.”

“I agree there was something happening with Obi-Wan’s thoughts. There was a shadowy feeling growing in our bond, almost an irritating buzz,” Qui-Gon said, “but I don’t feel it any more.”

The room was quiet as Obi-Wan calmed himself and sought the feeling of darkness that had become his constant companion. A wide smile began stretching across his face and he laughed delightedly as he opened his eyes.

“You are both right,” he declared. “The darkness is gone. In fact, except for being so tired, I can’t remember feeling this good in ages.”

“There was certainly a feeling of satisfaction in your thoughts,” Master Healer Hregan confirmed. “I would say that reliving the experience on Junmek and defeating Maogg was perhaps symbolic of regaining your memories, overcoming the pain of those memories and seems to have served as a major catharsis. There was a definite reduction in the feelings of guilt and self-doubt noted in all of your earlier reports, which I would attribute to remembering that you did hold true to your teachings despite the personal cost to you.”

Obi-Wan reached out take Qui-Gon’s hand again. He raised it to his lips and kissed it softly, his unspoken gratitude shining in his eyes and smile. Turning his head back to his left, he asked, “So, is it over now?”

“Well, it’s not quite that simple, young man,” said Master Healer Hregan as Healer Nolspaq grinned. “You will still need some follow-up examinations and therapy for a while to verify your stability and recovery, and we need to help you sort out the memories you have recovered about your experience on Junmek. I suspect, though, that this was a critical point for you, and you are well on your way to recovery.”

“Can I at least go home now?” Obi-Wan asked eagerly.

“We would like you to stay here for tonight so we can monitor your recovery. After you wake up and eat, we’ll check you out again. If everything looks good, we’ll have you out of here as soon as we can. Fair enough?”

“Well, since it doesn’t look like I have much choice, I guess so,” Obi-Wan replied.

“I don’t expect any problems with dreams or other Force disturbances, but this room is shielded so you don’t need to worry about bothering anyone else,” said Healer Nolspaq. “Healer v’braa is submitting our initial report for the Master Healer and he will also notify the Master at Arms office that Master Jinn’s presence is required here until we release both of you. I will also make sure the duty attendants know that they are not to let anyone from the MA’s office in to bother you. There is still plenty of food left on the tray if you are hungry. When you wake up in the morning and are ready to eat, just press the blue button on this panel and the day staff will bring in breakfast for both of you.” She paused, her gaze taking in both men. “Any questions, gentlemen?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “Thank you, Healer Nolspaq.”

“Yes, thank you, Healer,” added Obi-Wan. “I know I haven’t always been a very good patient, but I do appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

“All part of the service, boys,” said the Healer airily as she headed for the door. “Sleep well.”

The room was still after the door closed. Obi-Wan downed two more pieces of fruit before he realized that his Master was sitting motionless in the chair, chin on his chest. “You’re very quiet, Master.”

“It was a difficult experience, Padawan,” replied Qui-Gon very softly. He raised his head. “You went in so deep I almost thought we had lost you at first.” He swallowed, taking a moment to compose himself. “For so long I couldn’t reach you at all, then it looked like you might die and all I could do was watch. Later, when we were probing your memories. . . .” His voice caught again. He continued softly, “I knew it was difficult for you, but I did not realize just how painful and terrible it had been. I saw your memories of Junmek, the whole thing, not just bits and pieces from your dreams. Obi-Wan, you are much stronger than you give yourself credit for to have survived such an experience and to be able to return and fight for yourself. Not only I am glad to have you back, but I am proud of you for what you have accomplished.”

“I could not have done it without your help, Master. You were always there for me,” replied Obi-Wan. He held out his hand, waited as Qui-Gon reached out to clasp it. “You made me who I am, and you helped me find myself and the Force again when I was lost. I could not have done any of it without your support.” The apprentice pulled steadily on his Master’s hand until Qui-Gon rose and stood beside the bed. “That chair looks very uncomfortable, Master. There is plenty of room for you to sleep here.”

“Obi-Wan, I don’t think –“

“Would you just get your butt in bed, Qui-Gon,” interrupted the apprentice firmly. “The Healer said to rest and I can’t sleep with you way over there in that Sithdamned chair.”

“Oh, alright,” grumped Qui-Gon. He bent down to unbuckle and remove his boots, mumbling under his breath about ‘pushy padawans’, as Obi-Wan slid over in the bed to make room. Qui-Gon made a brief show of wrapping his cloak around himself before pointedly getting on the bed on top of the blankets.

Obi-Wan smiled fondly as he settled himself in to sleep, comforted by the solid presence next to him and the hum of affection over their bond. His last thought before he drifted off was that life was definitely going to be interesting in the future.

 

************************ **************************

 

The padawan in the mirror looked back with solemn gray eyes. The formal whites shone in the midday sunlight streaming in through the open window, the slight breeze ruffling the ends of the meticulously pressed tabard. The brilliant shine on the dress boots reflected back into the mirror. A tall figure appeared behind the padawan, wrapping two long arms around him.

Obi-Wan leaned back into the comforting bulk, an action that would have been nearly unthinkable when he first returned from Junmek. He worried at his lower lip as he reviewed everything he had accomplished since the last time he had appeared in this place. “You know, Master, I really should have found time to try to do all three of the additional extra credit history papers instead of just two. I flunked the midcourse exam so badly, and I should have –“

A large finger silenced the nervous babble. “Hush, Padawan. It is a waste of energy to speculate on would have, could have or should have,” said Qui-Gon. “You worked very hard, and did the best you could. It’s time for the Board to decide if it was enough.”

Obi-Wan thought of all the effort he had put in; for several tendays he had been working almost nonstop to try to ensure that he turned in the best possible results. Despite losing three days of work while he was in the trance, he felt reasonably comfortable with his academic results. The evaluation of his physical training had gone well except for one kata he still could not complete, but he hoped he would get credit for the fact that it was an advanced exercise that most human padawans did not even attempt until they were much older. Healer Nolspaq had seemed pleased with his progress in therapy and with the results of another complete examination, but she had not been willing to commit to a date for returning him to Mission status until she and her superiors completely reviewed his case. Obi-Wan’s stomach knotted up as all sorts of ‘what ifs’ tumbled through his mind. His anxiety must have spilled over the bond as he found himself suddenly turned around and looking up into his Master’s composed features.

“Padawan, calm yourself,” said Qui-Gon, a finger under his apprentice’s chin, lifting his face to look into his eyes. “No matter what the Board decides, *I* know how hard you worked and how far you had to come. It was very difficult, and I am proud of what you have accomplished. Let the Board make its decision; whatever the outcome, we will deal with it together. Just remember, I believe in you, and you must believe in yourself.”

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath. “Yes, Master,” he said, trying to hold a shaky smile. “It’s just that the waiting is difficult.”

“I know, Padawan.” Qui-Gon made a few minute adjustments to his apprentice’s uniform, then stepped back to inspect the results. He looked at Obi-Wan and smiled. “You will be alright.”

“Yes, Master,” said Obi-Wan. His smile was genuine this time as he said softly, “Thank you, Master, for everything.”

Qui-Gon just nodded, but the blue eyes were warm with affection.

There was more waiting to be endured as the agenda for the Padawan Review Board tended to be quite full at the end of each academic term. In addition to the normal load of performance, schedule and promotion reviews, there were usually a number of existing Notices of Counseling to review or new ones to issue as well as the occasional Notice of Deficiencies to review or issue. Two other padawans waiting with their masters were there for Counseling; the youngest looked at Obi-Wan with wide, frightened eyes when the older padawan mentioned he was there for an ND and practically ran back to the shelter of his master lest he be terminally contaminated. Obi-Wan started to babble again, but his master just smiled and motioned to the impatient apprentice to sit beside him; with the sigh of a martyr going to the stake Obi-Wan complied. Finally, however, the door opened for Obi-Wan’s turn and he and his master entered.

The full board of fifteen masters and knights was present, chatting or looking at datapads, as master and padawan walked quickly to the center of the room. Master Ch’tor held sway from his position at the center of the semicircular table. Once again two Council members, Adi Gallia and Yaddle, had both opted to attend in their role as ex officio members, but this time they were also joined by Healer Nolspaq and Master Healer Hregan, head of the Soul Healers.

The two Jedi waited patiently at the center of the room to be officially recognized. Time seemed to stretch interminably and Obi-Wan began to wonder if this was some deliberately sadistic test. He fought hard to maintain a calm exterior, focusing his gaze on the edge of the of the table, but his stomach was doing flip-flops and he was immensely grateful he had eaten so little at lunch. When Master Ch’tor left his chair and hobbled around the table in his direction, Obi-Wan felt beads of sweat start to pop out on his forehead. Master and padawan bowed respectfully when the elderly chairperson came over to their position. Obi-Wan swallowed and stood ramrod straight as Master Ch’tor looked him over from head to toe, circled around him, occasionally poking him with a bony digit, making odd clicking and grumbling noises in his throat, his sour expression never changing. With a small snort of disgust the Master finally turned and hobbled back, stopping briefly for a few words with the Master Healer before returning to his chair. Obi-Wan’s stomach was rapidly turning into a seething mass of churning, coiling serpents. The banging of a datapad almost made him jump as Master Ch’tor called the meeting to order and he had a sudden urgent need to piss which he sternly repressed.

“Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi,” announced Master Ch’tor in his chilly voice. Master and padawan bowed. The chairman continued, “We are here today to review the progress of Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, to determine the status of his suspended promotion to Senior Padawan and the need for any additional disciplinary action. Master Jinn, before we begin, do you wish to address the Board?”

Qui-Gon bowed. “Yes, Master Ch’tor, thank you. You have seen my report, so I will not repeat the details it contains. I do wish to emphasize, however, that I have personally observed the tremendous amount of work that Padawan Kenobi has put in. His attitude has completely turned around and he has aggressively worked on resolving his deficiencies in personal, academic and training areas. In his physical training his skills are beyond those of his peers; I took that into account when I designed a challenging training plan for him and I am quite satisfied with his progress this term. Padawan Kenobi took full responsibility for his problems and his actions and worked very hard to correct those problems. I believe he has earned promotion to Senior Padawan and I would gladly take him as my partner on any mission.”

“Thank you, Master Jinn,” said the chairman dryly. “Well said, and I am sure your report will be given its due weight. Do any members have questions for Master Jinn?” Master Ch’tor looked around but was met only by silence or shaking heads. “Very well.” He paused to lay out a number of datapads in front of him.

Obi-Wan’s nerves were taut, his tension only mildly diminished by his Master’s words of praise. ~ You are ready for this, don’t let them get to you. ~ Despite his best intentions, he still started when his name was barked out.

“Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Yes, Master Ch’tor.” Obi-Wan stepped forward, then knelt respectfully, his head bowed.

“Padawan Kenobi, in reviewing your Notice of Deficiencies, there was quite a remarkable list of very serious problems in almost every area of endeavor.”

“Yes, Master Ch’tor.” Obi-Wan raised his head to look at the Board chair and members.

“In addition to the standard reports, we have also had observers providing status reports. We have quite a bit of information about you and your progress, Padawan Kenobi.” Bony digits shuffled through datapads. “Hmm, this one is about your academic prowess, if I may use the term loosely.” Obi-Wan’s jaw tightened, but Qui-Gon sent a quiet wave of reassurance over the bond. Ch’tor looked up sharply, as if he had sensed the interplay, and looked quite annoyed.

“Hmmph, as I was saying, your academic work left a very great deal to be desired the first half of the term. Failing tests, poor participation, incomplete assignments, a very poor picture indeed, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, Master Ch’tor, I was clearly not performing even to minimal standards.”

“Indeed, you were not. Let’s see what your final reports look like.” The white eyebrows waggled as the chairperson looked through a datapad. “I suppose this is rather encouraging. It seems you have actually brought your marks up enough to pass all four of your classes. . .bit close for comfort in galactic history. . .class participation. . .extra papers. . .improved attitude.” The Master looked at Obi-Wan. “Not the best marks I’ve ever seen, but I suppose it’s something that you at least passed.”

“Yes, Master Ch’tor.” ~ Keep it short, keep it polite. ~

Ch’tor tossed aside one datapad and picked up another. “Physical training,” he announced. “Lightsaber drills, advanced drills, unarmed combat. . .hmm, katas. Think you’re pretty good with that lightsaber, don’t you, Padawan?”

Treading carefully, Obi-Wan tried for a diplomatic answer. “I am better than many, Master Ch’tor, but certainly not as skilled as others.”

“I don’t care if your master is the best wordsplitter in seventeen sectors. Don’t play those games in here, Padawan,” Ch’tor said harshly. “Do you believe you’re good or not?”

“Respectfully, sir, I understand this matter is too serious for games and that was not my intent. I apologize if it appeared that way.” Obi-Wan paused, a bright spot of red in each cheek. “To answer your question, yes, Master Ch’tor, I am good with a lightsaber. I am better than most padawans and a lot of knights, but my Master can still put me flat on my butt any time he really wants to remind me not to get a swelled head.”

The response got a smile from the two Council members and a wide grin from Healer Nolspaq, but the Board members all maintained a carefully schooled mask of indifference.

“There is a fine line between pride and honest acknowledgement of strengths and weaknesses. Remember that, Padawan.”

“Yes, Master Ch’tor.” Obi-Wan nodded respectfully.

“I see you had five new katas in your training plan. Rather ambitious to my way of thinking. Did you master all of them?”

“No, Master Ch’tor.”

“Is that all you have to say about it, Padawan Kenobi?”

“Yes, sir.” Obi-Wan kept the tone respectful but refused to lower his gaze until he saw the other’s head nod minutely.

“Very well, Padawan.” More shuffling of datapads. “Ah, yes. This would seem to be the real heart of the problem here, your therapy reports.” Long nails tapped impatiently for a moment. “Well, if we discard about eighty percent of these superfluous syllables, it appears that you have made some progress. There are a number of milestones noted. . . good cooperation. . .a major breakthrough recently. Altogether, a seemingly favorable report.” The chairperson looked up. “Padawan, are you cured of this problem?”

“No, Master Ch’tor. There are some issues still to resolve, but I believe I have the situation under control.”

“Indeed,” said the Master flatly. “Everyone has seen the reports?” Members of the Board nodded. “At this time I open the proceedings for Board members to question Padawan Kenobi.”

The next half hour was very similar to the last proceeding. Board members peppered Obi-Wan with questions about a wide range of topics, barely allowing him to finish an answer before the next question arrived. The apprentice answered as best he could, and honestly replied if he could not. Sweat trickled down the side of his face but he maintained a calm demeanor under the barrage, ever respectful, ever mindful of the seriousness of the occasion. As suddenly as it started, the deluge stopped. Obi-Wan drew several deep breaths as he took one more look around the Board.

Master Ch’tor had been silent during the questioning. He now gathered his datapads, slowly tapping a lone clawlike nail. “If there are no more questions, I shall sum up.” One last scrutiny around the room.

“Padawan Kenobi, you had numerous and significant deficiencies. There has been some progress; you passed all four of your academic classes, much of your physical training was completed, the Healers have noted improvements in your condition. On the other hand, the final marks were not exactly exemplary and you did not achieve all of the objectives in your training plan. From the Healer’s report, I quote the following: ‘based on the severity of the initial problem and repressed memories uncovered during therapy, we cannot at this time recommend that Padawan Kenobi be returned to unlimited Mission status’. So, some good points, some not so good.” The master gathered the datapads in one bony hand and looked at the apprentice.

Listening to the summary, Obi-Wan had felt hopeful until the quote from the Healers. ~ No Mission status. ~ He swallowed hard as his stomach turned to lead. He looked down as his shoulders slumped. ~ All that work, and no Mission status. Force, that’s probably the end of the promotion, too. ~

“Padawan Kenobi,” said Ch’tor sharply.

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath, gathered himself, looked up. “Yes, Master Ch’tor?”

The master held up the three datapads. “Is this the *best* that you could do, Padawan Kenobi?” he asked, almost disdainfully.

Obi-Wan hesitated, then Qui-Gon’s words echoed in his head. ~ ‘I believe in you, and you must believe in yourself.’ I guess if I’m going down, I can at least do it with my head held up. ~

The apprentice squared his shoulders and looked straight at the Board chairman. “Yes, Master Ch’tor,” he said firmly.

“Do you believe you deserve to be a Senior Padawan?”

“Yes, Master Ch’tor.”

“Is there anything else you wish to say before we adjourn to determine our decision, Padawan Kenobi?”

“Yes, sir, there is.” Obi-Wan looked around at the Board members. “I have freely admitted that I had problems, I took responsibility for those problems, and I have worked hard, to the best of my knowledge and ability, to correct those problems. I make no claims to perfection, and if my progress has not been sufficient to pass your judgement, then so be it. I will keep working, just as hard, and I ask only for guidance to let me know what I still need to correct. Master Ch’tor, members of the Board, I thank you for the opportunity you provided to allow me to try to correct the deficiencies, and I will respectfully abide by your decision.”

There was silence for a brief moment before the chairman spoke. “Very well, this concludes the public portion of this hearing. Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi, please wait outside.”

The two Jedi bowed and left the room.

Obi-Wan retreated to the far corner of the waiting room and sat down heavily, his head in his hands. Qui-Gon quietly followed him and sat down beside him, a comforting hand on his apprentice’s knee. They sat in silence for several minutes.

“You know, I really thought I had a chance for a while,” Obi-Wan finally ventured in a muffled voice. He raised his head, eyes heavy. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“Obi-Wan, you don’t know what they’re going to decide.”

“If I can’t get back to Mission status, why should they give me the promotion? I can’t go anywhere without that.”

“Listen to me, Padawan,” said Qui-Gon sternly. “You’re not using your intelligence or your training and you are jumping to conclusions. What really happened in there?”

“The Board had all the progress reports that I hadn’t been allowed to see and they asked me a ton of questions. I felt like the main course at a Moruvian barbecue, being slowly turned over the spit,” said Obi-Wan morosely. “It was a review hearing, that’s what happens at review hearings.”

“That entire proceeding was a test, Padawan,” replied Qui-Gon. “While you were answering questions and watching Master Ch’tor, I was watching everyone else.”

“So?”

“Most of that hearing was very carefully orchestrated. Remember that this is Master Ch’tor’s third tour as chair of the Padawan Review Board, and this group can be particularly hard on padawans. Revoking a promotion to Senior Padawan is a very serious affair, and I suspect they wanted to be certain they were making the right decision, whatever that may turn out to be. I thought you actually acquitted yourself rather well in what was clearly intended to be a difficult situation.”

“Thank you, Master, but you heard Master Ch’tor. He was reading right from the Healer’s report; they didn’t give me Mission status.”

“First, Padawan, he was reading a very small and carefully chosen extract from the report. I strongly suspect he chose that part specifically just to see how you would react,” said Qui-Gon, slipping unconsciously into lecture mode. “Second, I was watching Healer Nolspaq. She may be a very good healer, but a trained diplomat she clearly is not. When Ch’tor was putting on his act, she was giving off clear signals of discomfort and forced collusion. I strongly suspect there are a lot more positive things in that report than Master Ch’tor was willing to divulge.”

“And I did pass all my courses, and most of the other training, didn’t I?” said Obi-Wan slowly, trying to look for positive aspects of the situation. “You think there might really be a chance?”

“Obviously I can’t guarantee anything, but I believe there is a much better chance than you are allowing yourself to believe in. Shall we wait and see what the actual decision is before we jump off the top of the west tower?”

Obi-Wan nodded, a small grin sneaking onto his face. “Yes, Master, I guess I can wait a little longer.”

Actually, it was only another ten minutes before they were summoned back into the hearing room. They walked sedately to the center of the room and bowed.

Master Ch’tor motioned to a knight standing at one end of the table. The knight walked over to Qui-Gon and handed him a stack of datapads.

“Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi, welcome back. The Board has reviewed your case, Padawan Kenobi, and a copy of the complete report with the supporting inputs has been provided to your Master. To summarize the final decision, your promotion to Senior Padawan is confirmed and you will retain your original date of promotion so there will be no loss of seniority. No additional academic or training probation is required. The Board concurs with the Healer’s recommendation for restricted Mission status and recommends that you continue your therapy. If there are no questions, case is dismissed.”

Obi-Wan blinked, certain that he must have missed something in the rapid recitation. “Is that it?” he blurted out.

Master Ch’tor looked up, white eyebrows drawn together in a ferocious frown. “You were expecting a medal?”

“No, Master Ch’tor, of course not, uh, thank you, sir, board members.” Obi-Wan could feel his face flushing as a surge of amusement came across his bond with Qui-Gon.

“You have questions?”

“No, Master Ch’tor.”

“Then you are both dismissed.”

Master and apprentice bowed and turned to leave.

“Oh, by the way, Padawan Kenobi.”

The apprentice turned his head.

Master Ch’tor looked up from his datapad briefly. “Nice work, Padawan.” He turned back to his datapad.

Obi-Wan started to open his mouth but a tug on his tunic pulled him toward the door. Instead he just nodded and followed his master out.

The good news finally started to sink in as they were walking down the hallway. Obi-Wan could feel the grin growing and quickly decided he didn’t care who saw it.

Footsteps sounded behind them. “Obi-Wan!”

The two men turned as Healer Nolspaq hurried up. She hugged the beaming apprentice. “Congratulations, Obi-Wan. I’m so happy for you, especially after all that work you put in.”

“Thank you, Healer. You helped a lot, and I really appreciate that,” replied Obi-Wan, hugging her back.

“Allow me to also express my appreciation, Healer Nolspaq,” added Qui-Gon.

“You are most welcome, Master Jinn. But you also helped a lot in Obi-Wan’s recovery, which made my job much easier.”

“Thank you, it was my pleasure to help. There is one thing you could help clarify, if you would. I’m sure my padawan would like to understand what his Mission status actually means.”

Obi-Wan nodded vigorously, so the Healer herded them out of the hallway and into a nearby unused room.

“Actually, I should apologize for all that business with your Mission status, but we were asked specifically by the Board not to tell you,” said the Healer. She looked angry for a moment. “There really was no need to have put you through all that nonsense with that inquisition, and it doesn’t mean much that they concurred with our report. Once Master Healer Hregan makes an official determination on someone’s Mission status the only ones who can override it are the Council. When you read the entire report, you will see that you have been restored to ‘restricted Mission status’. There are all sorts of different restrictions that can be used. In your case, we don’t really think you are going to have any serious problems, but we prefer to err on the conservative side. The restrictions you have are that you continue therapy and meditations, and you can’t be sent back to places like Junmek right away; we want your next couple of missions to be reasonably routine, then we’ll reevaluate. As long as there are no more problems, I should think you would be back to unlimited status in a few months.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Obi-Wan, his grin getting even wider. “Thank you again, Healer, I appreciate everything both of you have done for me.” He hugged the Healer again and then Qui-Gon.

“It’s been good working with you, Obi-Wan,” said the Healer. “If you will excuse me, though, I do have some other patients I need to see this afternoon.”

“Of course,” said Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. They bowed as the Healer left.

“Actually, I’ve also got some work to do this afternoon,” said Obi-Wan. “Latemeal will be at nineteenth hour today, Master.” He reached up to brush a quick kiss across Qui-Gon’s lips before heading for the door. He paused in the doorway, pointed a finger, and said severely, “Don’t be late.” The grin was already returning to his face, though, as he ducked out the door.

“Yes, Padawan,” whispered Qui-Gon to the empty door, a smile of anticipation lighting his features.

 

******************** *******************

 

The savory smells drifting from the small kitchen tickled the nose of the tall Jedi Master as he entered the shared quarters and hung up his robe. The sight of the half naked padawan who appeared in the open doorway pleasantly stirred other parts of his anatomy.

“Whew, I had forgotten how much steam making the reshouli generates,” said Obi-Wan as he wiped his face with a towel. “I’m glad you’re back, Master. The food will be finished soon and I wanted to make sure we both had time to get ready.”

“I had to stop by the Master at Arms office and harass those bureaucrats into countersigning the official notification so they’ll stop bothering us.” Qui-Gon triumphantly held up a datapad with a wide smile. “Mace grumped at me a bit when I asked for it in writing, but the restriction is finally, fully and officially over.”

“That’s wonderful, Master,” said Obi-Wan, an answering smile lighting his features. “Tomorrow we shall go wherever you like to celebrate.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow,” replied the apprentice firmly. “Tonight we have unfinished business to take care of.”

“And what might that be, o Padawan mine. . . .“ said Qui-Gon teasingly.

Instead of answering, Obi-Wan advanced on his master, eyes alight with an almost feral hunger. He captured the taller man’s arms and backed him across the common room until he fell back on the couch. Holding the long arms down as he put a knee on each side of the seated figure, Obi-Wan kept advancing until he had captured Qui-Gon’s mouth in a long searing kiss that left both men gasping for breath.

Pulling back a few inches, Obi-Wan finally spoke. “I know there has been a lot that has changed. I can’t offer you the things I wanted to, and I’ve still got some problems to resolve, but I’m going to ask anyway since you’re not allowed to. I love you, Qui-Gon Jinn, and I want you to be my lover. What is your answer?”

Qui-Gon looked into the intense eyes, felt the heat against and inside his groin, and swallowed. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, I would be honored to have any part of you that you are able to give and to help you any way I can. And it would give me very great pleasure to be your lover for as long as you will have me.”

“Then tonight you are mine. Do the things that I ask, follow me on this path, tell me your feelings honestly if I hurt you, and I will do everything in my power to pleasure you. Can you do this, Qui-Gon?”

There was an unfamiliar tingle in his belly at the silky, possessive tone of the word ‘mine’, but Qui-Gon did not hesitate. “Yes, Obi-Wan. What do you need from me?”

A sweet lingering kiss promised much more to come before the apprentice stood up. “For right now, I want you to get cleaned up, get dressed in the clothes I left for you in the fresher, then wait in your room while I finish getting everything ready.” Obi-Wan smiled. “Think you can handle that?”

“I think I could just about manage that,” said Qui-Gon with a smile of his own. He got up and headed for the fresher under the apprentice’s watchful eye.

Closing the door of the fresher behind him, Qui-Gon drew a sharp breath as he saw the outfit hanging on the back of the door. Shimmering deep blue radiance hung in soft folds of the matching pieces. He supposed they could be loosely classified as pajamas, but that was like saying a lightsaber made a good flashlight.

The midthighlength shorts that passed for smallclothes were lined with a soft furry substance that raised goose bumps on his arm when he caressed it with one hand. The top and bottom pieces were heavy synthsilk that whispered on his skin. He smiled when he noticed there no buttons to tear, only skillfully hidden magnepanels along the front of the tunic and in the fly. Upon closer examination, the robe that went with the outfit turned out to have a subtle pattern of lighter blue stars on the dark blue background, a sash closing and two large pockets.

Qui-Gon tore himself away so he could undress and shower. As he got ready to step into the large bath and shower enclosure, the odd tingle that had lingered in his belly exploded into a dancing flight of butterflies as he grasped the significance of the items laid out for his use. His favorite shampoo and soap, of course, but as he sorted through the other items he realized just how thoroughly he was to supposed to clean himself. He hesitated a long while, leaning naked against the counter as he turned the long slender nozzle over and over in his hands. Qui-Gon had thought of this situation several times since the healer’s blunt but accurate observation that he had never bottomed before, but he couldn’t truthfully say he had ever fully resolved his feelings. A little shiver ran down his spine as he thought about the reality that lay ahead, but the sparks of joyful anticipation that floated over the bond finally decided the matter for him.

Qui-Gon plunged ahead, efficiently showering and cleansing himself, toweling off, drying his hair and slowly drawing on his new clothes. He was still a bit giddy from the unaccustomed sensations of the warm water that had filled him, and almost got a full erection just from the incredible cloth that glided over his cock. Qui-Gon had to lean against the wall with a cold cloth on his face, quieting his breathing as he sternly repressed his feelings. When he stuck his head out of the fresher, Obi-Wan immediately came over and hustled him into his room, told him brusquely to wait and relax, and shut the door, immediately opening it again, however, with a reminder that he had better not have lost a certain blue rock before closing the door again with a solid thump.

Having retrieved the box with the precious blue stone and placed it in his pocket, Qui-Gon settled down to wait. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he entered a light relaxation meditation to counter the effect of the exotic fabrics on his skin. He opened his eyes again at the eventual loud knock on his door, unfolded himself and stretched before slowly walking out of his room.

One step into the common room and Qui-Gon had to stop and stare. Furniture had been pulled to the sides of the room and warm candle light flickered on the walls. At the base of the couch a low table had been spread with a veritable feast of his favorite foods. Pillows covered the floor around it. Soft water music played in the background. Across the room, slinking slowly toward him, his sinuous apprentice was a walking wet dream in brilliant emerald green synthsilk, loose, low slung pantaloons and open vest whispering as he moved. The eyes, hard nipples and navel were outlined with dark green that matched the scarf tied around his forehead. The tip of his tongue peeked out, slowly licking his upper lip. Qui-Gon gasped and his cock jumped when the apparition drew close and ever so slowly circled around him, just barely not touching, eyes hot and hungry. Fingertips brushed the blue clad arm, hand barely clasping hand as the apprentice led his master to the waiting banquet and let him sink down into the nest of pillows.

Obi-Wan gracefully floated down next to Qui-Gon and poured two glasses of amber wine. Giving one to his master, he leaned in, touching the two glasses together. “To us, together, forever,” he said softly.

Qui-Gon replied almost breathlessly, “To us, together, forever.” The wine was crisp and cool as it crossed his tongue, a bare hint of sweetness lingering.

The meal that followed was a hedonist’s delight. The two men deftly fed each other, delicacies of tender morsels, crisp vegetables, herbed dumplings with hidden meats, sensuous sauces, enough to tantalize the tongue but not sate the belly. There were murmurings of meaningless conversation and carefully chosen sweets to complement the meal.

Taking another sip of wine, Qui-Gon looked over the edge of the glass at the man sitting beside him. “That was a wonderful meal, Obi-Wan. Thank you.”

The apprentice leaned back against the couch. “You are welcome, Qui-Gon. I’m glad you liked it. And I like you in that blue, it suits you well.” He licked chocolate sauce off his fingers for a moment, setting the older man’s heart thumping. “In fact, you are quite beautiful, so very beautiful to me.”

“And you are a wicked sensualist hiding behind that staid padawan’s braid. You’re lucky you chose a master for your lover. These remarkable blue shorts almost ended this evening before it began,” said Qui-Gon slyly.

Obi-Wan laughed, an infectious grin that seemed to shine from his soul.

“I love it when you laugh, Obi-Wan. You light up the world for me when you do that,” said Qui-Gon. He looked at his apprentice somberly for a moment. “There is something missing, though. You simply don’t look quite right.”

“And what would that be, my beautiful Master?” said Obi-Wan, still with a grin on his face.

Drawing the small box from the pocket of his robe, Qui-Gon opened it and placed it on the table. He intercepted the slender hand reaching for it. “Let me,” he said softly. “Please.” Large callused hands deftly unplaited the end of the long braid, then tenderly rewove the strands with the brilliant blue gem in place, softly reflecting the dim candlelight. Tying off the end, he laid it down and stroked it gently. Speaking around the sudden lump in his throat, he whispered, “That’s much better, my beautiful Senior Padawan.”

Obi-Wan carefully placed the braid across his palm, gazing down at it with suspiciously bright eyes. “Thank you, Master.” He closed his hand around the stone and looked up. “For everything. I could not have earned this without your help.”

A large hand closed around the fisted stone. “You worked hard for it. You deserve to wear it proudly.”

Green tinged gray eyes looked into blue. Obi-Wan broke the stare, jumping up with a smile. “Let’s dance.”

“Dance?”

“Don’t look at me like that, silly man.” The music changed to a sultry beat, heavy with bass. “You’ll like it, I promise.” He pulled the larger man up to his feet. “You won’t need this, though.” Obi-Wan untied the sash of the robe and slowly pulled it off, then tossed it onto the couch. “There, that’s much better.”

Bemused, Qui-Gon let Obi-Wan lead him to the cleared center of the room. Both men were graceful and used to working in close unison; what started as a simple glide around the room soon became almost a kata of building passion. The synthsilk outfits whispered against each other and on their skins as they moved together. Closer and closer together they drifted; hands began to move, fingers brushing arms, moving up to shoulders, caressing chest and sides. Around and around the room they flowed; close embrace, heat touching heat, hands on backs. Obi-Wan rested his head against Qui-Gon’s chest and smiled a little as he felt Qui-Gon’s erection rapidly growing in the now snug confines of the torturously erotic shorts. With his teeth, the apprentice carefully pulled open the top magnepanels of Qui-Gon’s tunic, then kissed the hot exposed skin. On their next pass around the room, the green vest floated to the floor. Two slender hands pulled apart the front of the blue tunic and slid inside, pushing the fabric aside. The sudden contact of skin on skin drew a sharp gasp and moan from the Jedi Master. Both men were hot, sweat beading on their skin, slick where bare flesh moved against bare flesh. Hands caressed smooth backs, gradually moving lower. Obi-Wan licked at the salt sweat gathering at the base of Qui-Gon’s throat as his hands sneaked down to knead the Master’s synthsilk covered ass. The apprentice’s hard cock swung freely within the loose green fabric that was the only covering on his lower body and he could feel the engorged shaft trapped in the fur lined shorts rub against his lower belly.

“Force,” moaned Qui-Gon. “Want you, Obi-Wan. . .please.”

Licking, kissing and nibbling, Obi-Wan maneuvered them through the doorway and into the main bedroom. His gaze wandered around the room for a moment as he stripped the blue tunic from the hot body and flung it aside.

~ We’re really here, together, for real, just like I dreamed about. ~ The evening had been everything the apprentice could have hoped for so far, but the reality was proving even better than the dream.

Adrenaline surged as Obi-Wan pushed Qui-Gon onto the bed, backing him into the middle of the large surface, then held him down, dived in and captured his mouth. Tongue meeting tongue, exploring, plundering, heat sending exquisite sparks into his gut until Obi-Wan pulled back. He sat astride Qui-Gon, gently flexing his hips as his cock ground into his Master’s hard organ, the layers of synthsilk becoming even slipperier as precum began to flow. Obi-Wan could feel the heat and power trapped beneath him, and it was intoxicating to know that it was there because of him.

“How do you like this dance, Qui-Gon?” he teased with a wicked smile.

“When do I get to lead?” growled the master.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, so impatient,” said Obi-Wan, grinding his cock a little harder. “Whatever happened to living in the moment?”

“I’ll give you a moment, you impertinent little –“

Qui-Gon’s attempted escape turned into a wrestling tussle, with the slippery apprentice ending up stretched out on top, a leg lock on his beleaguered master’s hips and a lip lock on his face. Obi-Wan held the long arms down as he moved from the gasping mouth, licking and kissing across his bearded face, nibbling an ear, licking sweat from his long throat, pausing to suck the pulsing vein. The salty taste rolled across his tongue, making him greedy for more. Qui-Gon’s moans as their groins mashed together were music to his ears. Obi-Wan slid down the long body, turning his oral attentions to the hard nipples, the rough sensation exhilarating on his tongue. He nibbled and kissed, biting down, enjoying the sparks shooting across the bond, then soothing the brief pain. His hands began roving, skimming the flat belly and teasing along the edge of the blue pajama bottoms.

“Obi-Wan, more. . . must have more,” moaned the Master. He made an abortive move to reach for the apprentice.

“Oh no you don’t,” gasped Obi-Wan. He snatched off his silk head scarf and tied the two large hands together, pinning them above the tousled head with a touch of Force, checking to ensure that Qui-Gon could release himself if he truly wanted to. “Tonight you’re mine,” he whispered fiercely, a possessive gleam in his eyes. Obi-Wan noted with surprise that not only had Qui-Gon not objected to being tied up, he had distinctly felt Qui-Gon’s excitement level ratchet upwards at his actions and words, Qui’s flushed face, racing blood and throaty groans matching the waves of desire crashing across their bond. Swiftly he moved down the hot flesh, holding down squirming hips to grab the waistband of both lower garments and roughly yank them off, tossing them off the bed.

A hot blast of erotic power surged through his body as Obi-Wan took a moment to contemplate the sweaty body before him, straining with need, the power to deny or satisfy in his hands. Qui-Gon’s hard cock slapped against his belly as Obi-Wan shoved the long legs apart and moved between them. He caressed and teased hot skin, moving up Qui’s inner thighs, around the flanks and the lower belly, the hot salty firmness of flexing muscles burning across his tongue. Finally he moved lower, diving in to suck and lick heavy balls, drawing moans and gasps. Heady musk filled his nose, the delicate skin smooth on his lips and tongue as he played with the testicles in their soft sac, rolling them around and around. Obi-Wan deliberately let the sensations flood through him, new feelings of shared love and lust wiping away the familiar but hurtful memories of how he had learned this skill.

Soft fingertips caressed hard shaft as his hot mouth sucked tender balls and licked soft skin of the perineum. Hips squirmed and bucked helplessly under the assault as Qui-Gon moaned his need. Without warning Obi-Wan shifted his attack, using his hard-won expertise to pleasure his moaning lover. He took the leaking head into his mouth, dipping his tongue into the slit, sweeping across the head, then aggressively sucking down the length as one hand moved to fondle the balls. Obi-Wan felt his own cock growing harder, fluid soaking into the fabric of his pantaloons, as he reveled in the feel of the soft skin over the rigid, blood-filled organ as it filled his mouth and throat. Mercilessly he worked the length of the cock, taking the master to the edge, exploring the big man’s reactions, cataloging those spots which evoked the strongest reactions. Qui-Gon’s frantic wriggling when the ticklish spot at the base of his shaft was captured made Obi-Wan smile, the sudden howl when a smooth tongue invaded the slit sent an electric charge into his gut, the suction of a full throat massage sent reverberations shooting across the bond as his own balls tightened in response. He worked his magic, then pulled back, not once, not twice, but three times, before pulling off completely and sitting back near the edge of the bed.

Both men were gasping for breath, sweating, tension stretching the bond taut. Qui-Gon tossed his head, beads of sweat flying, his hips reaching helplessly for relief, hands straining in his bonds. Obi-Wan finally pulled off his last garment, releasing his own formidable cock.

“Obi-Wan, I need you now,” demanded Qui-Gon as he avidly watched his apprentice’s cock spring free. “I can’t take any more of this, you Sith-spawned devil.”

Very slowly, deliberately, Obi-Wan slid his body along Qui-Gon’s length, finally coming to rest chest to chest, cocks rubbing together between their sweaty bellies as he supported his weight on his arms.

Obi-Wan bent his head, sucking in a fold of sweaty skin at the base of the long neck, braced himself, then bit down hard until he drew blood. Obi-Wan simultaneously heard the yelp of pain and felt the surprised shock over the bond as the body beneath him tried to surge upward. A rush of heat flooded through him as he held Qui-Gon down and kissed away the pain.

“You *will* wait, Qui-Gon,” the apprentice whispered into his ear.

A gasp exploded as a trembling shiver passed through the long body. Obi-Wan swallowed the big man’s whimper in a long kiss, tongue gently exploring, sucking on his lower lip. Obi-Wan felt his own body respond to the power of control, his cock throbbing, blood racing, and knew he was too close to the edge. He took several minutes to quiet both of them, a slow kiss, soft whispers of love as he caressed the sweaty face, his weight holding down and stilling Qui-Gon’s wriggling, another long kiss while his hips continued to gently thrust. Gradually he could feel both hearts calm their frantic hammering. He unhurriedly kissed and licked away the hot sweat from the bearded face and neck, felt the quivering tightness of the bond relax as breathing calmed. Obi-Wan felt his own balls loosen, his cock still hard but under control. He watched the burning passion in the blue eyes below him settle into a simmering ardor as he allowed himself to enjoy the primal pleasure of hot skin on skin from the full length contact. Only when he felt both men were ready did the apprentice bestow a last tender kiss as he prepared to move on.

“Qui-Gon, I love you, and I want you,” said Obi-Wan as he pulled back a few inches, holding the master’s face between his hands. He reached up to release Qui-Gon’s hands, discarding the silk scarf, then propped himself up, a hand on each side of Qui-Gon’s head. “I want you so badly I can’t think of anything else, but I won’t take what you are not prepared to give, or force you into something against your wishes.” Obi-Wan paused, sighed heavily. “This wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but things still aren’t quite right since Junmek, and I need to have control of what happens with my body.” He looked into Qui-Gon’s eyes. “I want to take you, make you mine, but I have to know that you really want this too, that you trust me enough to let me have control until I can grow enough to share that control with you. That time may be a long way off, so I need the truth, Qui-Gon.”

One long finger slowly traced a line along the edge of the face above him. “I do understand why you need this, why it has to be this way or not at all, at least for now. I’m just glad to have you back on any terms.” Once more Qui-Gon felt that odd thrill in his gut, running up his spine as he paused. “The truth? The truth, my love, is that it has been a very long time since I have let anyone else have control in my personal life, and never before in bed. I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t nervous, I guess even a little afraid.” A long shuddering breath, a quick swallow. “But the truth is also that I love you, and I do trust you. I want this for both of us.” The finger moved along Obi-Wan’s lips as Qui-Gon began to lower his shields.

The apprentice sat up, his expression serious as he looked down. “This first time I want to see you, and I want you to see me as I take you, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said gently. “It may hurt a little more at first or be a little more difficult, but this is something I have to do. Are you absolutely certain, love?”

“I understand.” Another hard swallow, then a smile. “I want to make love with you. Take me,” he whispered.

Obi-Wan grinned ferociously and claimed Qui-Gon’s mouth in another long kiss as he lowered his own shields. The bond was running wide open now and he could feel the heat and desire building again. He pulled a tube of lubricant from under his pillow, uncapping it as he moved back down between the long legs. The apprentice devoted his initial attentions back to the needy cock, adjusting his technique as he remembered those things which had most pleasured his moaning lover earlier, feeling Qui-Gon’s excitement surge as he hit his most sensitive spots. He moved his efforts lower, licking and kissing the hot balls, laving the soft skin of the perineum, running his tongue around the small opening, drawing a sharp gasp when he plunged his tongue inside, wetting and stretching the ring of muscles. A crackle of blue electricity flashed between both men, the bond humming with the afterglow. Obi-Wan felt his cock throbbing in anticipation.

Tension, anticipation, love, lust, the bond rang with all of these as Obi-Wan squeezed a generous coat of gel into his hand. He fondled Qui-Gon’s hard shaft with one hand as he applied a generous coating of gel to the opening, then pushed inside with one finger.

A stab of fear over the bond lit off a bright white warning light inside the apprentice’s head. Obi-Wan sat up, letting the one finger stay motionless just inside the ring of muscles, with his other hand rubbing soothing circles on the trembling belly before him.

“Qui-Gon,” he called softly.

Breathing heavily and far too rapidly, the master’s blue eyes turned in query.

“You must trust me, Qui-Gon. You need to relax. It may hurt at first, but it will be worth it, I promise. I will be as gentle as I can,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I do want this, it’s just. . .a little harder than I thought it would be.”

“I understand, love. Focus on me.”

Blue eyes locked onto gray as the Master licked salty lips.

“Watch me, trust me,” Obi-Wan quietly commanded as he sent a surge of warmth and reassurance over the bond.

“Yes, my love.” The clenched hand in the sheets beside him slowly relaxed as his agitated breathing slowed.

Slowly, cautiously, Obi-Wan continued to push inside the opening with one finger, gently rotating and stretching. He noticed that both of their cocks had softened a little but he continued on, monitoring the bond and sending waves of love and reassurance. He moved on to two fingers as he felt Qui-Gon’s trust growing and began fondling the big shaft again, feeling the heat building once more in the pit of his stomach.

By the time Obi-Wan got to three fingers his cock was hard and throbbing, precum seeping slowly. The apprentice found Qui-Gon’s prostrate and smiled at the sharp intake of breath that was echoed by a moaning wail over the bond. His heart was thudding in eagerness and he felt a slow trickle of sweat on his temples. Obi-Wan fought hard to stay relatively calm as his gaze stayed riveted on the blue eyes staring back at him. The bond was crackling with the growing anticipation.

“Qui-Gon, it’s time,” whispered the apprentice, voice hoarse with excitement.

“Yes. . . take me, do it,” pleaded the Master.

Obi-Wan slicked his cock and moved closer, putting the long legs up on his shoulders. He carefully placed the head of his cock at the opening and pushed gently, using a touch of Force to ease the entry. There was a brief gasp of pain, echoed over the bond. Obi-Wan stopped until Qui-Gon’s body accepted the intruder, sending love and reassurance over the bond. When Qui-Gon nodded, the apprentice slowly pushed in, watching his eyes, pausing once as he noted another spike of pain and slow adjustment. Fully sheathed in the hot flesh, he paused to let both of them savor the feelings.

~ Force, I’m inside Qui-Gon, so hot, so tight. ~ He looked down, a sense of wonderment filling him as he saw the two bodies joined together. ~ It’s even better than I imagined. ~ He threw his head back and laughed in sheer joy as he flexed his cock.

Obi-Wan abruptly sucked in a deep breath as he felt muscles clench around his cock, sending his blood racing and lights flashing across his vision. Across the bond he felt the burning pain of intrusion dissolve into a fire of lust. Looking down, he saw a mischievous lopsided grin on Qui-Gon’s face as he squeezed again.

~ So, you’re ready to play, are you? ~ Obi-Wan's heart soared with happiness.

Grinning back, the young Jedi began to slowly move. He pulled out, the tight passage gripping hard, until just the head of his cock was inside, then gradually pushed back in. The bond sang in his head as he felt the last remnants of Qui-Gon’s anxiety burn away, replaced by not just acceptance but surprised desire and need. Obi-Wan looked down into the blue eyes and saw trust and love staring fiercely back as hot muscles sucked his cock in.

Again, a little harder this time, the fire spreading within him, in and out, exhilarating, an answering heat burning across the bond. Blood roared in his ears as he felt his heart hammering. He leaned forward for a deep, plundering kiss.

“Good?” he panted as he thrust hard, then paused.

“Obi-Wan. . .oh Force. . . ,“ Qui-Gon sobbed as he nodded his head, “. . . didn’t know. . .could be like this.”

Obi-Wan pushed him down for another bruising kiss as the bond flooded with need.

Qui-Gon gasped for breath as the apprentice pulled back. “Want you. . .take me,” he pleaded.

Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon’s cock in his hand, a generous coating of lubricant and saliva allowing him to safely fist the engorged shaft. Harder and faster he began to pump, Qui-Gon responding eagerly with thrusting hips, moaning and calling Obi-Wan’s name. Driving hard and deep, Obi-Wan angled in to rake Qui-Gon’s prostate, sending the fire higher, hotter, his gaze never leaving the lust darkened blue eyes in front of him, watching every quiver, savoring every groan, every plea for release, every slap of his balls on the upraised ass. Time hung suspended as blood pounded through him, sweat burned his eyes and slid down his face, his arms, his chest. Melded in mind and body, the fire of their joining burned pure and sweet, Force-blessed affirmation of their love as need to take was met by need to be taken. Intensity building, hips and fist thrust frenetically, muscles clenching, until white hot fire exploded across the bond, hot seed pumping deep, hot seed spilling onto hand and belly, two joined in one.

Warm.

Heart beating.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He was lying on top of Qui-Gon, softening cock slipping from its snug sheath, head resting on the broad chest. Warm semen mingled with sweat between their bellies. He slid off to his side of the bed, found the towel he had left by the pillow and cleaned them both off.

Blue eyes blinked slowly as the head turned. “Obi-Wan?”

“I’m here. Are you alright?” He dropped the used towel off the side of the bed, bent to grab the covers and pull them up.

“Yes.” Eyes drooped. “Love you.”

Snuggling in, the apprentice rested his head again on the smooth chest. “Love you, too. Get some rest, Qui-Gon.”

“Yes, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan turned his head, reaching to plant a soft kiss on the bite mark he had left earlier on the warm skin. “Mine,” he whispered, a smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

 

Finis


End file.
